


A Little Unsteady

by AlrightDarlin (WhoopsOK)



Series: The Foxhole Kits [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Babysitter Jeremy Knox, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Family Feels, Feel-good, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, No Smut, Non-Sexual Age Play, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other, Parental David Wymack, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Recovery, Reunions, Seth Gordon Lives, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Touch-Starved, caregiver!David Wymack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-11-05 08:28:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 46,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17915348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoopsOK/pseuds/AlrightDarlin
Summary: Aaron raises his hands, signs, [Does he want to be little?]“Haven’t asked yet. Remember how well you took it?” Wymack asks, smirking a little when Aaron sticks his tongue out at him, feeling like that was ages ago.(Seth lives and Jean survives and they find their way to David Wymack's little family.)





	1. Prologue: In Which Seth Survives, As Foxes Do

**Author's Note:**

> And thus! We have the aforementioned Seth & Jean lovefest. The other foxes make appearances and, as before, this is happy and clean—no smut, all hurts are comforted, and the only warnings are related to the things the Foxes went through as kids. If it was not clear in the previous part of the series, _there is nothing else like this on my main Ao3._ AlrightDarlin is the only pseud you’re likely to be interested in, lil foxes! Take care of yourselves!
> 
> …Also, this timeline is pickled and fried, I know. Time is irrelevant to the pursuit of happiness!
> 
> Title from “Unsteady” by X Ambassadors

The doctors had said Seth was refusing to speak.

Not that he _couldn’t_ , not that his brain was so fried he’d lost his words, but that he was flat out refusing. He was staring at nothing and saying nothing and, to the best that anyone who looked at him could tell, feeling nothing. He was doing such a thorough imitation of a vegetable it honestly scared Wymack to death more than him being unconscious had. He was _awake,_ he just wasn’t _here._

And then Allison had come in the room.

The relief she felt, because that _was_ what she was feeling, was so sharp and frightened it couldn’t come out gently. Wymack understood that, understood what it was like to watch someone you love burn themselves up like they hadn’t learned the danger of swallowing matches. Still, he wished he could’ve gotten to Allison before she started screaming at Seth.

Because almost instantly, at the sound of her voice, Seth—he just, broke apart.

Wymack will never be exactly sure what it was that she said that did it, but Seth started to yell back, no words, just mindless yelling. Probably mostly to cover up the fact that he was sobbing so violently he was damn close to making himself sick.

When he _did_ make himself sick, the doctors made them leave.

Immediately after his stint in rehab, Seth moved out of Fox Tower without saying a word to _anyone_ and Wymack _hurt_ , Wymack hurt so much he could barely breathe.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go, _this_ didn’t feel like a second chance. It felt like limping away to die quietly. He’d talked to—talked _at_ Seth until he was blue in the face, hell, he went to the whole fucking school board, but nobody wanted to hear him out this time.

_We’d all known a team… ‘like this’ was going to have rough spots_ , they said.

_You have a team of nine other disasters to chase after, Dave_ , they said.

_You win some, you lose_ — they started to say, and Wymack had to leave before he knocked that guys teeth down his throat.

_Gordon almost died here, maybe it’s best he get some space_ , said the text that made him so sick he almost cried. Seth almost died on his watch, the accusation hung heavy in the words.

And through it all, Seth gritted his teeth and said nothing.

Wymack watched him go because what else could he do?

What could he do but wish him the best, and talk to a therapist, and try to hold his team together, while he and Abby try to hold _each other_ together? Wymack is familiar with a life of few options, so he does what he always does and pushes forward.

The end of the year goes spectacularly to shit. Even after Neil’s face hits the news, and the team wins an impossible game, and _Riko_ hits the news, Wymack doesn’t hear from Seth, gets no return phone calls. He asks Allison only once if she has and when she looks like that’s enough to break her apart, he doesn’t ask again.

The summer finds him with a new source of happiness, nine little nightmares to coddle and chase after. So he lets himself focus on that, on the fact that he feels a lot like a new father and it’s a damn good feeling. Yeah, he spares more than a few prayers on Seth’s behalf, but he knows when to accept that his hands have been taken off of something.

All to say, Wymack doesn’t quite know what he’s expecting when he hears a knock on his door in the middle of the night, because Andrew doesn’t knock and anyone else would call ahead. There are a few guesses as to who it might be, but Wymack feels shock make his body go numb as soon as he looks out the peephole.

Bryan Seth Gordon was not even in his realm of possibility.

*

Seth’s clean, those are the first words out of his mouth.

“I haven’t taken anything since—” The wigged-out look he’s had since Wymack let him in intensifies for a moment, breaches into real fear and Seth has to stop a second to get his breathing under control. “I’m clean, okay?”

“Okay, Seth,” Wymack says and crushes back the dozens of questions trying to fight their way out of his mouth. “Gotta be honest, though, you’re not looking so hot,” he says, because he’s _not_.

It looks like he hasn’t been eating well since the last time Wymack saw him, the definition of his muscles having faded some. There’s also a new twitchiness to him, like he’s continually unsettled, spooled for a fight that hasn’t come yet, but he’s _certain is just around the corner._ If the bags under his eyes are any indication, maybe whatever it is that’s got him wound so tight keeps him up at night, too.

Seth just shrugs though, not quite meeting Wymack’s eyes. “Got a job, saving up. Gained some weight back,” he says and Wymack keeps that kicked-in-the-gut feeling off his face. “I’m _clean,_ ” he reiterates.

“I believe you,” Wymack says, because the jitteriness doesn’t seem like withdrawal, it’s just… If he had to guess, it’s just anxiety. “Who’s looking out for you these days?”

Seth looks a little surprised by the question, like he’s baffled by the genuine interest. “I’m staying with some friends. _Real ones_ ,” he adds quickly, “Good people, no drugs. I just…” He clenches his jaw, looks like he forces himself into steadiness by sheer force of will. He looks Wymack in the eyes. “I wanted you to know, Coach.”

Wymack takes a breath, because this feels a lot like coming back to give a goodbye he’d felt guilty about never saying. Seth isn’t getting back on the team, not right now, he couldn’t handle it. But if he sticks around long enough…

“You plan on going back to school?” Wymack asks.

That puts a pinched look on Seth’s face. “Without the scholarship, I—”

“That’s why I’m asking, Seth,” Wymack says, because he’s starting to believe in miracles, believe maybe he can help pull one more off. Hell, he’s got a team of nine of them.

When Seth’s face opens up with shock, it’s only a split second before doubt dims it back down. “You can’t be serious.”

A professional at dealing with kids who don’t think they can be cared for, Wymack doesn’t let Seth’s distrust sting. He rolls his eyes, sneering, keeps with his character. “I’m a lot of things, but I never been made to be a liar,” he says. “You say you got friends now? Good ones?”

“Yeah…” Seth says hesitantly, “Got a sponsor, too.”

Wymack squeezes Seth’s shoulder, can’t be bothered to keep the pride off his face. “And you plan on staying clean? Taking care of yourself and putting on weight?”

“Yeah,” Seth answers, a little sharply. “What’s your fucking _point?_ ”

“The point is I’ll yell at whoever I gotta to get you through your last year,” Wymack says, then pats Seth’s shoulder. “If you wanna stay, I’ll help you figure out how.”

There’s a heavy bit of silence that settles on them then. Seth is staring at Wymack like he’s _lost his goddamn mind_ , but also maybe like someone else’s crazy is just what he needs right now.

Eventually, Seth takes a deep breath. “This got a timeframe?” he says and, _yes_ , Wymack can see that old fire trying to start back behind his eyes.

“This semester,” Wymack says. “Take this semester to take a few more breaths, get your shit together. We’ll make a plan over the break.”

Seth nods several times, wiping a hand over his mouth. “Boyd still around?”

“Thinking of joining the Fit & Sober Club?” Wymack asks, smiling when Seth glowers at him. “Yeah, Boyd’s still here. Give him a call, he’d be glad to hear from you.” He sighs a little, “We all would.”

That makes Seth uncomfortable enough that he stands, wipes his hands on his jeans. “Yeah, ok, I’ll… I’ll call him after my shift.”

Wymack stands, too, shows Seth to the door, but before he opens it, he turns back. “Hey, look,” he says, “You keep in touch, ok? Check in with me _any time_ you need to. Hell,” he motions around his apartment. “You’re welcome here, too.”

Seth follows his gesture, glances around jerkily, a curious look on his face when he lands back on Wymack. “You got enough to deal with, Wymack.”

“What is it with you assholes telling me what I—? I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t want you around, dipshit,” Wymack snaps, his usual attitude coming back at the thought of… well, Seth’s continued existence.

“Don’t be a dick,” Seth snaps back, looking livelier already.

Wymack waves him off, opens the door. “Get your ass to work, Gordon. Call Boyd. Call _me._ ”

“Ok _dad,_ geez,” Seth growls, but he sounds annoyed, not hostile. He’s also already heading out the door so he misses the way Wymack freezes. “Later.”

Closing the door, Wymack whips around to survey the room, heart suddenly in his throat. There are no toys out and the sippy cups and plates are in the cupboard and—

…The cup of crayons could be innocuous enough, right?

*

Seth goes to speak to Allison after a few days.

“I didn’t take anything,” he says straight off, leg jumping, twirling his bracelets round and round, over dozens of tiny scrapes that look like the result of him doing the same, _a lot_.

“Seth—” she starts, but he’s scared now, the same instinctual, hind-brain fear taking over that always does when he thinks about the hole in his memory. Between kissing her full of joy and waking up numb in a hospital, there isn’t any memory of drugs, not even the thought of _wanting_ any.

“I know it doesn’t matter now, I _know_ ,” Seth insists, looking at her a little frantically, “But I _didn’t take any fucking pills_ , I didn’t shoot anything up, Al, I swear to fucking—”

“It was Riko,” Allison chokes, throat tight and her rage, her genuine _could-kill-someone_ rage is unfamiliar to him. It stops him dead.

She tells him the story, the whole story. She tells him what happened to Neil and then Andrew and Aaron and then about Nathaniel and _Neil’s face_. Tells him that Riko might not have been holding the gun and Seth is… no less scared, but…

“…I didn’t take anything.”

Allison squeezes his hand, cups his cheek. He realizes he’s crying. “No, Seth, you didn’t.”


	2. A Little Offer: Seth

Wymack can’t _not_ tell Seth what they’ve been up to, not when the others are going to be around the apartment so often. There hasn’t been any overlap yet, but he’d rather it not be a surprise. Seth is doing well, not on level yet, but still much better than when he’d first shown up. The Foxes are doing great and Wymack needs to keep all this balanced, keep _them_ balanced.

So he doesn’t bother with subterfuge, sits them down while they’re (mostly) feeling big and talks to them.

“Did you offer—?” Aaron stops his question, shaky and actually, surprisingly a little concerned on Seth’s behalf. He raises his hands, signs, [Does he want to be little?]

“Haven’t asked yet. Remember how well _you_ took it?” Wymack asks, smirking a little when Aaron sticks his tongue out at him, feeling like that was _ages_ ago. His smile dims a little, “I’m gonna do what I can, but I don’t want anyone taken by surprise. You all are…”

They’ve been the center of his personal life, his kids and Abby. He’s happy with how he’s spending his time right now and Seth is _worth_ the time, of course, he is, but… He doesn’t want to upend the trust they have in him.

Nicky had been mouthing on his Bun-Bun’s ear nervously, but lets it drop, raising his hand a little. “I mean… Babies always gotta get extra attention at first, right?” he points out sweetly, and Renee and Dan actually turn to smile at him. Wymack feels warmth taking over his chest. After everything, Seth has probably earned Nicky’s patience the least and, still, there it is.

“He needs you, too,” Matt agrees, his hand rubbing between Allison’s shoulders, where it’s been since he noticed her eyes were damp. “I—,” he looks around at the others, meets their gazes before he continues, “We get that, Coach.”

There are several solemn nods and no disagreement.

Then Neil squeezes his hand hard, shaking with something Wymack can’t name. The guilt Neil had never been able to shake off is shining in his eyes, though. “You gave us this, we have each other. If you can—” he starts, loses whatever he was about to ask for. “ _Dad_ ,” he gasps and Wymack thinks it’s mostly because Andrew hates the word ‘ _please’_ , even as he _feels_ Neil mean it.

“I know,” Wymack says, pulling Neil forward into a gentle hug. “I hear you, kid, I got it.”

The others need Seth to be looked out for just as much as Seth needs looking out for.

Still, there’s the little matter of explaining to Seth what it is he’d be in for.

They’re sitting at Wymack’s kitchen table, Seth scarfing down some post-closing-shift fast food. Or, he was until Wymack started explaining, but now he’s just holding a burger and staring, face twisted.

Seth swallows his cheek full of food. “You fucking with me?”

“No,” Wymack replies flatly.

“Huh,” Seth says, burger sagging in his hand. “Oookay.” Then he bursts into laughter. “Holy _fuck_ , do they wear diapers, too?”

Wymack sighs, a little irritated. “Seth…”

“Oh man, Boyd’s big ass in baby clothes?” Seth turns to him and Wymack’s irritation dims a little. He looks hysterical, but not like he thinks it’s funny, more like he doesn’t know what he’s feeling or what to do with it. He’s mean on impulse when he’s scared. “Did Neil—? Nah, wait, it’s _Nathaniel_ now, right? Did his dad really fuck him up so—?”

“Has Neil ever called you Bryan?” Wymack says and it has the intended effect of sucking all the forced mirth out of Seth’s face.

Seth glares at him. “I ever kick his ass?”

 “That’s what I thought,” Wymack replies. “Quit taking swings at people who aren’t fighting you. He asked for you, you know that? They all did.”

That makes Seth’s face twist in disbelief. “Why the fuck would he—?” he stops. That must sound a little too pathetic to his own ears. “They wouldn’t do that.”

“ _Seth,_ ” Wymack sighs, because it hurts that Seth can’t _possibly_ conceptualize genuine kindness directed towards him. “They’ve been worried sick the whole time, they’re _still_ worried.”

“They all seem fine,” Seth scoffs glibly with a shrug. “Happier.”

Wymack imagines Seth won’t appreciate being gentled, but he can’t help the way his voice softens. “It’s not because you left.”

Seth’s jaw ticks, he refuses to meet Wymack’s eye. “So it’s all just because you decided to _baby_ them?” he accuses.

“Mighta had something to do with it,” Wymack offers drily. “How many of them had someone to ever treat them like kids, you figure?” Seth’s shoulder hitches up in a shrug that says he knows and doesn’t want to acknowledge it. “How many people treated _you_ like a kid?”

“They’re not here now, what’s it matter?” Seth snaps.

“I’m here,” Wymack points out. “You been gone a good while and I’m still here. Plan to stay, too.” He shrugs then himself, “If the kid stuff skeeves you out, then it’s not for you. That’s fine. I’m glad you’re here, however you wanna be here. I promised to get you through your last year and I meant that, Gordon.”

Seth doesn’t respond immediately, twisting his hands and staring off into space. When he notices he’s doing it and makes himself stop, he tells Wymack firmly, “I’m _not_ calling you daddy.”

Wymack nearly laughs, Allison’s words from all that time ago coming back to him. “Didn’t figure you would,” he repeats, though Seth doesn’t know it. “Coach works fine.”

“Right. Cool…” Seth says a little stiltedly, unsure of himself.

Wymack taps the back of his hand, easing into the idea of touching Seth, his new kid. “Finish eating. It’s my job to worry about the big stuff.”

After a befuddled pause, Seth finishes his food.


	3. Seth’s Bad Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a nightmare and what could be a panic attack should anyone need that.

Seth gets so mad sometimes Wymack worries for him.

Little space for him is isolated at first, the idea of being around the others spiking his anxiety so much he gets mean. Wymack doesn’t want them to collide if it’s not going to do any of them any good. And Nicky was right, new babies need easing into life, and Wymack is willing to walk slowly with Seth. The others send him pictures—a lot more now, even though he still sees them more regularly than he sees Seth—and it settles his heart. They’re playing and napping together, looking out for one another with nobody having to be on top. They’re fine. And really, Seth was, too.

Wymack had almost let himself think Seth was past having his temper fail so explosively.

“Seth, tell me why you’re angry,” Wymack says as Seth paces back and forth across his living room like he’s been caged there.

…Things have been moving along continually if jerkily before tonight.

It’d taken a while to ease Seth into the mindset, to get him to understand he doesn’t need to feel _stupid_ in little space _._ He’s doing little kid stuff because he _is_ a little kid, at least when that door closes and he’s wearing his _Hot Wheels_ pajamas. Mostly, they watch cartoons and play with toy cars, though Seth doesn’t mind drawing, too. Some of the drawings he leaves out for Allison and Neil, because they’d asked and he can’t—

He _can’t_ see them little yet, but he wants them to know he heard them. A lot of the time, oddly enough, they just _talk_. Seemingly about _nothing_.

They carefully skirt around most of Seth’s old life, don’t even _allude_ to the time before he came back, but it still makes them feel closer. Especially when it’s late and Seth’s voice is shaking over the phone, but he talks himself—talks _both_ of them back to sleep.

Not to say it’s always that easy. Seth calls him to yell a lot, too. He was the middle kid, he never had to work until things went to shit and he didn’t have a scholarship to live on. The general public doesn’t do his mood any favors, but he knows how important this job is, so he swallows his vitriol until afterhours. Sometimes Matt and Aaron catch it, when they’re all at the gym and Seth is tearing through workouts like he could really kill something if they don’t watch him. Sometimes Wymack barely gets out a “ _Yeah, Seth?_ ” when he answers the phone before Seth is cursing every single thing he’s come in contact with that day.

Wymack tries not to take too much of that, lets him vent before making him talk about things he _likes_ for a change, for fuck’s sake. The go-to is rock music and, oddly enough, national park trivia, two subjects Seth can apparently go on about at length. He tends to retell the same stories when Wymack gets him off the rage train, but that’s fine by him. It’s better to hear light in his voice than narrowly restrained violence.

It’s getting better. In fits and starts, yes, but Seth is doing _better_.

Sometimes Wymack looks up from where he’s sitting on the couch, or drawing on the floor, or making dinner and feels like he _sees_ him. He sees the bright and funny little kid Seth could’ve once been before heartbreak drained him and spite was the only fuel left on his fire.

Wymack has been around long enough to know that it’s probably that closeness that’s scared the shit out of Seth, though the lack of sleep probably didn’t help.

Only the first night he’s stayed over—under the guise of giving his housemates some privacy, but also just a flimsy excuse to spend time with Wymack—he has a nightmare. Wymack wakes up to the sound of Seth sitting bolt upright on the couch so hard it scrapes across the floor. He can hear Seth cursing a blue streak before he even manages to get out of his own bed, much less into the other room.

Seth’s eyes are wild when he spins on Wymack, sweating, panic making his hands shake even as he clenches his fists. “Fuck you, you _son of a_ _bitch_ , this is so fucking stupid,” he grits out, looking around like suddenly everything is coming to get him. “ _Fuck!_ ” he kicks the couch and Wymack winces.

“Seth!” Wymack barks, but doesn’t try and touch him, doesn’t want to _actually_ fight him unless it comes down to that or letting him break the furniture. Or his bones. “Hey! Talk to me. _Tell me why you’re angry._ ”

“I never should’ve agreed to this,” Seth snarls.

“Why are you saying that?” Wymack asks, squinting at him. “Was your nightmare about _this_?”

That was the wrong thing to ask, apparently, because Seth’s rage visibly amps up several notches, body coiled with violence. “I’m saying it because it’s _fucking true_!! I’m—” he lets out a frustrated sound, snatching up his bag off the floor. He turns in a frantic circle, shoves the coffee table over. “Where are my _fucking_ shoes? I’m—”

It hurts something awful when Seth turns to leave without them.

Wymack doesn’t move from his spot in the doorway, though, holds his hands up ready to brace himself for a hit. “Seth, hang on a second.”

“Let me _go_ ,” Seth wails desperately, through clenched teeth. He looks angry, _so angry_ , but Wymack can see the fear that anger is trying to eclipse. He also notices that Seth doesn’t just shove him out of the way and break for the door, which makes Wymack pause.

There isn’t any time Wymack could recall Seth being cornered and reacting with anything less than all the violence he could muster up. Hell, sometimes it didn’t even take cornering him to get him to start throwing punches. But right now, even looking as angry as he could be, he doesn’t move to touch Wymack, doesn’t bowl him over. He just stands there, desperate and trembling, lost and… little. Seth is little and he’s scared and, if Wymack had to guess…

“I don’t think you want me to let you go,” he says slowly.

Seth looks fit to start growling. “Don’t fuck with me.”

“I’m not,” Wymack says. “This isn’t a prison, you aren’t trapped here. You could leave right now, but…” He takes a breath, shakes his head. “Don’t think I’d make it easy for you. I told you I’d fight for you.”

“That’s _bullshit!_ ” Seth says, throws his bag on the ground, the anger having to come out somewhere. “You know it’s fucking bullshit!!”

“What is?”

Seth jabs an accusing finger in his direction. “You caring!! You trying to fit me into this fucked up little family you built!!”

Wymack thinks drily if this is a family for fuckups, Seth fits right here with the rest of them. He keeps that thought to himself for the time being. “How is that bullshit?”

“ _Because you’re gonna give up on me!_ ” Seth exclaims, throwing his arms up. Before he’s even completed the motion, a wounded little sound escapes him, like a whimper from someone who’s learned to keep them quiet. “You would’ve done it if I stayed on the team, you’re _definitely_ gonna do it _now_ that you have _them_ and I’m just the good-for-nothing _piece of shit who leans on you—_ ”

“Seth, don’t tell me what I’m gonna do,” Wymack cuts in as sharply as he can manage, given that he’s gone liquidy inside. He wants to baby Seth, but he has to get through to him first. “If I was going to kick you out so easily, I wouldn’t have ever let you in.” He takes a step forward, “You just had a nightmare.”

Seth takes a step back. “It was _not_ just a nightmare, that’s just what happens with me! _Nobody stays,_ ” he snarls, but his voice shatters in the middle. The vicious curl of his lips never falters, teeth bared, even as tears start trickling down his face. He wipes his cheek angrily, “ _Nobody_ stays, nobody wants _me_ to stay, it doesn’t matter what I do or what you say, this is _bullshit_ , this can’t—” He says it all with such increasing franticness he loses his breath, seems unable to get it back.

This time when Wymack comes towards him, Seth shifts to him like he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Hey, hey, slow down. Seth, listen to me a sec, ok? Just listen,” Wymack tries a hand on Seth’s shoulder, leaves it there when he isn’t shoved away. “I’m not gonna give up on you. I’m not a psychic, kid, so I don’t know all of what’s coming, how this is gonna go for us. But I _do_ know I’m not just gonna up and abandon you.”

None of his kids, _none_ of them are getting abandoned. They’ve been neglected _enough_.

When that makes Seth choke on his own breathing, Wymack lowers his voice in a way he hopes is soothing. “You _got_ me. You got me so much, you don’t even have to believe me today. I’ll stick around to prove it,” he lets his free hand find Seth’s other shoulder, turns him so he’s looking right in Wymack’s face. “Focus on the right now, where I’m here, and I _do not want_ to leave you. And nobody is going to _make_ me, not even you, kid.”

Seth tries to sniff subtly, but it doesn’t really work with his breath quivering in his chest. “Coach…” he whimpers, probably meaning it to sound like a warning, but it comes out too watery to pass. He shuts his eyes. “ _Coach._ ”

Wymack knows he needs something he doesn’t know how to ask for, probably doesn’t even know exactly _what_. Still, Wymack’s gut has gotten him this far with all his littles and Betsy has told him to trust in that. So he presses forward like Seth is a little kid who’s had a nightmare, like Seth is _his kid_ who’s scared to death after a bad dream. “Seth, I want to hold you for a while, is that ok?”

Seth looks like he wants to say something ugly on impulse, but his face twists halfway through and he just drops his head. “No, you _don’t_.”

“Yeah, I do, kid. I really do,” Wymack says, asks expressly, “Can I?”

Seth nods jerkily, hands coming up to clutch Wymack’s shirt the second his Coach’s arms close around him.

“Ok, Seth, alright, bud,” Wymack says and counts his breaths, rocks them back and forth. “I’m here, we’re ok. You’re gonna be ok.” They stand until Seth’s breaths stops coming in big heaves, until the tension in his body fails all of a sudden and just _slumps_ into Wymack. “I got you, kiddo,” he whispers, then with a quick glance over his shoulder, lowers them both onto the couch.

“I’m…” Seth chokes, starting to say something he can’t finish. Wymack doesn’t need to hear it.

“It’s ok,” Wymack says, pulling Seth so he’s half rested on his chest, his face damp against Wymack’s throat. Seth’s hand comes up to clasp Wymack’s bicep, beyond the point of shame at clinging to him. Still, the motion brings his hand in line with Wymack’s tattoos, makes them catch his attention in a way they normally don’t, accepted as just a part of his skin. He hesitates a moment before asking, “How much do you know about Cherokee folklore?”

Seth stills, confused. “ _Nothing??_ ”

“I know a little more than nothing,” Wymack says, because that’s all he knows. His mother wasn’t the story telling type, so the few times she did talk about their history, he remembers distinctly. Well, mostly. “Wanna hear some?”

As it turns out, Seth could use a bedtime story.

So Wymack recounts what he recalls of his mother’s stories, some of which is probably entirely misremembered, but it’ll do for tonight. He has enough to last until Seth’s breathing evens out into sleep. Enough for Wymack to feel, at least for the moment, ok with allowing this part of his childhood—he closes his arm a little tighter around Seth—near his own kids.

There’s a crook in Wymack’s shoulder that hurts like a son of a bitch the next morning, but waking up with Seth curled into his side, sleeping peacefully—for what is probably the first time in longer than Wymack had realized—makes it more than worth it.

Later on, Seth looks embarrassed by the big stuffed alligator Wymack buys him, but not so embarrassed that he doesn’t take it with wonder. “It’s heavy…” he says, bouncing it in his hands.

“Heard that might help,” Wymack says, but doesn’t mention anxiety disorders or chronic nightmares. He closes a friendly hand on the side of Seth’s neck when he looks shamefaced, though. “If you sleep better holding something, don’t let anyone tell you you’re too big to hold something, ok?”

Seth swallows. “My roommates…”

Wymack winces a little. “Seth, they’d probably appreciate you sleeping through the night,” he points out gently, rubbing Seth’s back when he scowls through a flinch. “You can leave it here if you want, but I think it’d do better in your bed. You gotta get more sleep, ok, kiddo?”

Seth hugs it a little tighter, as if he’s afraid Wymack might snatch it away. “I’ll try.”

“S’all I ask, Seth,” Wymack says.

All through breakfast, Seth holds his alligator and jiggles his feet.

Wymack will never get used to littles staring at him like he’s the most amazing thing they’ve ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wymack has tribal tattoos and therefore is part of a tribe, I rest my case.
> 
> (Though, I’ll admit Cherokee was chosen purely because it’s one of the larges demographics of Indigenous Peoples in the U.S. and also, geographically, has origins on the East Coast? I don’t remember if it’s ever specified where Wymack is from so I went with the Carolinas, but of course, if I’m wrong or this seems insensitive, feel free to say as much. Comments are always, always welcome.)


	4. Waifs and Strays and Jean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… Geography machine Broke, ok? For Jean’s sake, we’re pretending they’re a wee bit closer together than they are. Remember: We’re suspending our disbelief in the pursuit of happiness!
> 
> Also, I think because we don’t get as much Seth and Jean in the original, some of these chapters are longer with…can we call it character building? Sure!

The next time Wymack gets an unexpected knock at the door, he just stares down at his desk for a moment, relishing the last moments of peace he’s sure to have today. He’s got an apartment all to himself and people still just _keep fucking showing up_. Sure, so far those knocks have led to some pretty great moments in his life, but _still_ , he can feign annoyance on principle, can’t he? There’s sure to be an _interesting_ story on the other side of the door.

Taking a cursory glance around the apartment to make sure it’s Acquaintance Friendly, he crosses over to the door suppressing a sigh, hoping he’s forgotten a delivery. Maybe it’s an Edible Arrangements from the kids or something.

Imagine his confusion when he sees Jean Moreau standing on his doorstep.

The number on his cheek gives Wymack a sickening bit of whiplash, but he opens the door to find Jean looking (slightly) less cagey and maybe even a few pounds heavier than last they’d seen each other. The air of dignity drawing up his shoulders, lifting his chin, still failing completely to suppress the nerves on his face. It also doesn’t do anything for the faint bags under his eyes.

“Coach Wymack,” Jean says stiffly, clearly uncomfortable.

“Moreau,” Wymack greets slowly. “Didn’t think I gave you this address.”

Jean actually goes flush instead of giving Wymack the sour look he’d expected. “May I speak with you?” he says quickly, “Inside?”

Wymack really needs to work on his inclination towards an open door policy, because really, he doesn’t hesitate nearly long enough to let Jean inside. He motions at the kitchen table, mostly clear of any junk. “Water?”

“No, thank you,” Jean says, but when he clears his throat, Wymack rolls his eyes and gets him some anyway.

“So what’s going on?” he asks, putting two glasses on the table as he sits. “There another crime family I should be worried about?” And it’s a joke, but also a genuine question, because he’s really getting too old to tango with gangsters.

Jean must sense some of his genuine wariness, because he shakes his head quickly. “No, nothing like that,” he says in the tone old Catholic ladies use before they cross themselves. Jean has no such inclinations, though, just shakes himself subtly. “I’m here because of Renee.”

Wymack freezes, puzzled, before having to shove down a weird rush of protectiveness. He quirks his brow at Jean. “If you’re asking for her hand, she’s got it, not me.”

Jean flashes pink. “I’m _not._ This is about Kevin,” he says and the _weird rush of protectiveness_ is threatening to win over Wymack’s good sense if Jean doesn’t get to the point. “He and I… spoke. About—” his voice wavers before it cuts off. He gives a vague motion that Wymack takes to mean _‘the sudden and largely justified death of our mutual ex-abuser’_ or something similar. Huh.

Well, that is probably something Kevin will need to talk to Betsy about. Also, it wasn’t necessarily going to be a onesie night tomorrow, but his Princess could probably use something soft and quiet if he talked about Riko. Still, that’s better than choking it back forever and Wymack can’t help but be proud of him for that.

“That’s good,” Wymack starts cautiously. “Probably needed some time to grieve together.”

The look that gets him is as surprised as it is grateful and Wymack thinks he gets why. None of the Foxes were the least bit conflicted over Riko’s death, their tongues only held in place by Kevin’s tendency to breakdown when it’s mentioned at all. They’re glad he’s gone—quietly, Wymack is, too—but even the Trojan’s general goodwill and neutral sympathy wouldn’t have helped them understand what Jean and Kevin lost. They may have hated their lives, but Riko _was_ their whole life for years.

Wymack gets that losing your life without dying is more than a little traumatic.

“Yes,” Jean says quietly, doesn’t quite manage to hold back a shudder. “But he… seems well,” he continues. “Better than I think I’ve ever— But it’s not because—” He clears his throat again, “I knew it wasn’t because of the _funeral_ …”

…This cannot be going where Wymack thinks it is.

Jean looks frantic and confused. It hits Wymack that it’s likely because he’s unused to speaking so honestly without it involving begging. He gives him the time to sputter through his thoughts, eyes narrowed because _this cannot be going where Wymack thinks it is._

“Because we _talked_ and he feels—similar to me, no? It’s still all very surreal and it’s hard to not just _hate_ everyone who—” He waves his hand as if wiping the thought away. “None of them understand. It’s _maddening_ ,” he says, ruffling his own hair appropriately. “But he’s still so…”

Jean swallows. “He looks _happy_ ,” he says looking befuddled, “When we were leaving, I couldn’t help but ask and,” There’s the sour look Wymack had been waiting for. “Kevin wouldn’t explain, left me with Neil like he had a fire to go put out. So I asked _Neil_ what happened and he didn’t say _anything_ until he dropped me with Renee, but then he just told me to call you.”

That fucking _asshole._

Jean shifts stiffly, voice raising slightly. “And when I complained to her she said I should speak to you in person.”

_All his kids are such fucking troublemakers._

Wymack just stares at him for long enough that Jean starts to visibly get uncomfortable. Then he rubs the bridge of his nose, sighs at the ceiling. “Renee better fucking explain,” he grumbles and digs out his phone.

Jean starts to say something, but Wymack shoots him a look.

“ _Dad_ ,” Renee answers and he can hear her smile.

“Renee,” he says back just as lightly. It’s hard to maintain annoyance with his daughter, quite honestly, but he gives it the old college try. “I don’t recall ordering more strays.” He ignores the way Jean glares at him.

Renee laughs at that. “ _If you keep treating strays nicely, others will keep showing up._ ”

Wymack doesn’t leave the room, but turns away for the illusion of privacy. “This wasn’t ‘showing up’, this was ‘sent’,” he corrects. “Question is why?” he stops just short of calling her honey.

He listens to her breathe for a few moments, before it turns into a sigh. “ _Because he’s hurt,_ ” she answers softly. “ _He’s doing better, but he’s still hurt. Maybe worse than we were._ ”

“We’re not doing the Suffering Olympics,” Wymack says, because he’s not interested in weighing anyone’s pain against someone else’s, least of all his kids.

Renee’s breath clouds the microphone in what was probably a laugh. “ _I’m not, it’s just…_ ” She pauses to consider her words. “ _When you’re blessed with something that works and see someone struggling, you’re not meant to keep it a secret. You work for us. And we think you enjoy it, too._ ”

And ain’t that just the kicker? Wymack _does_ enjoy it.

Wymack went from having no family to speak of, to having Abby and _ten littles_ around him, making him feel like _maybe_ family can mean something good. Even for people like them. They did that for him and he has never been more grateful to any group of people in all his life. They’re getting to a point where they can trust in the idea of a family, too, and Wymack _enjoys_ working towards that, watching it happen.

But Wymack doesn’t know Jean, hasn’t given him any reason to trust him beyond fielding the rumor mill while he was still reeling, beat half to death at the hands of the one constant in his life. If Jean trusts Renee that much, then, well… He isn’t exactly wrong, because she’d never intentionally betray him.

Still, Wymack is floored that she’s staked her reputation on him, that she’s trusted him that much.

“ _And Allison and I were talking and…_ ” Renee continues, shuffling on the other end of the line, “ _Jean and Seth might help sort each other out._ ”

… _Huh_.

Wymack hadn’t really thought about it that way. Though in different respects, Jean and Seth had both suffered the furthest extents of Riko’s willingness to hurt people. The fact that _either_ of them survived him feels like a _horrifyingly close call_.

But even without Riko—and weren’t they _all_ better off without him—Seth and Jean were both sharp of tongue and perhaps a little meaner than any situation really called for. Neither of them probably _wanted_ to be that way, but, well, circumstances hadn’t exactly allowed for gentleness, had they? They’d have to ease into being gentler people, _if_ that was something they were even willing to do. Seth is trying, making slow progress, but right now, if he heard someone call Kevin “ _Princess_ ”, his reaction might make Wymack might change his stance on discipline. Jean might actually have an aneurism.

Nobody needs either of those things.

“Huh…” Wymack says, because _Seth and Jean_.

They’re going to antagonize the shit out of each other, but… that’d put them on an even playing field until they figured themselves out. Two grumpy little toddlers—

Well, all this assuming Jean even says yes to running away with this circus.

Wymack turns to look at him sidelong and Jean does his best to not look unnerved. It’s mostly successful, but Wymack shrugs at him, shaking his head.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook,” he tells Renee, mostly to make her laugh, and she does.

“ _Thank you, Dad,_ ” she replies and there’s a profound earnestness in her voice that Wymack can’t ignore.

“Sure, sweetheart,” he says, watches Jean’s eyebrows jump up. “I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it after.”

“ _He better,_ ” Renee says, “ _Bye-bye._ ”

Wymack would think after having several of these conversations, the process would get a little less nerve-wracking. But The Foxes were his kids before they were _his kids_ , you know? They already had an in with him and vice versa.

Jean is practically a stranger, here on Renee’s word and a whim, however desperate either of those may have been.

“This is going to sound crazy,” Wymack warns him, pocketing his phone as he sits down. It’s going to sound crazy because it is, it’s absolutely fucking nuts.

And still, Wymack will never turn his back on a kid who might be willing to take his help.

Jean’s eyebrows haven’t come down from when Wymack called Renee ‘sweetheart’, but now one is cocked, delicately. “You’re _Foxes_ ,” he says evenly, but the nerves are evident in his face. “I don’t expect anything less.”

Judging by the way he shoots up out of his chair halfway through Wymack’s spiel, Jean had in fact expected less.

“ _Kevin would never_ _do that_ ,” Jean hisses, embarrassed. Wymack realizes a few seconds later it’s not on Kevin’s behalf, he thinks he’s being made fun of. “I don’t know what kind of relationship you have with Renee, but Kevin would _never_. And _Nathaniel_ —”

“ _Neil_ ,” Wymack cuts in curtly, “and my _son_ , all my Foxes have been through a lot, most of ‘em have been through hell.”

Jean doesn’t look any less aghast. “And you expect me to believe _that_ is your solution?” he exclaims, “Brainwashing them into _children?_ ”

Wymack feels a flare of offence at the phrasing, rolls his eyes. “I’m not brainwashing anybody,” he says patiently. “Look, when you’re struggling out the far side of hell, somebody ought to give you a hand up and a safe place to rest. That’s all this is, that’s all I’m offering.” He shakes his head, holds back a sigh. “Most of them went to hell young, Jean.”

Jean draws up short at that, because yes, yes they did. But his eyes have taken on a new hardness, with less of a frantic edge, even if his hands are shaking. “You can’t undo what happened to them.” The ‘ _what happened to me_ ’ goes without saying.

“Sure the fuck can’t,” Wymack says, because Jean has experienced a horrendous level of cruelty from the moment the Moriyama’s took possession of him, from the moment Riko understood anything he did to him would be without consequences. “Much as I wish I could, I can’t take away what happened.”

“So you…?” Jean doesn’t seem to know how to finish, just as unfamiliar with freely given kindness as the others. He might even have more reasons to be hand-shy of authority figures.

And still, for all his theatrics, he hasn’t stormed off.

Wymack wasn’t the one closest, but he was still present when Renee dragged— _carried_ Jean out of the Raven’s Nest all the way to Abby’s house. _That_ Jean had been as broken as a person could be without ceasing to exist at all. Now, he’s standing in Wymack’s apartment on his own two feet, healthier and _safer_ than he has been in years. And yet.

“Renee’s not the type to watch someone struggle if she thinks she can help,” Wymack says. “Neither am I.” She doesn’t get that from him, but it’s still a good feeling that his daughter carries at least some of his traits.

Jean raises his chin just slightly, defiantly. “You all think I can’t do this alone?”

It’s a bit of a silly question; Jean is just getting to the point where he can _be_ alone for short periods. Wymack doesn’t point that out, though, perhaps isn’t supposed to know.

“Course you could, but why _would_ you?” Wymack asks. “You think Renee couldn’t do this without me?” Jean doesn’t answer because he knows better. Renee doesn’t _need_ this, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth having. If it makes the going easier, why not take it? “A soft place and a hand up, that’s all I got, Jean.”

The initial revulsion on Jean’s face has receded to a general unease. He’s going to talk to Renee—if he can’t make himself talk to Kevin just yet—and Wymack hopes it does something for him. For now, he’ll take Jean returning to his seat, messing with his cuticles nervously.

“And…” Jean’s face twist, baffled, and he swallows. “You’d really add me to your—your _stray collection?_ ”

“You were here on loan once,” Wymack says, reaches out to tap Jean’s fingers before he accidently picks himself bloody. “That says everything about what I’d do, doesn’t it?”

Jean stares at Wymack’s hand where it’s drawn back to rest on the table. “I don’t…” he manages to raise his eyes to somewhere around Wymack’s left ear. “I don’t know how this would work.”

“Neither did we,” Wymack confesses, leans over a little, kindly catches Jean’s eye. “Just like always, we make it work with what we have.” When Jean just looks at him, he figures they might as well try easing into it, or at least ease into being around each other. He glances at the clock on the microwave, “What time are you heading back?”

“I—? Nine tomorrow morning,” Jean answers. “I’m supposed to call Renee to pick me up for dinner at seven, though.”

That leaves them enough time for a little icebreaker. “I can drop you off at Fox Tower if you’d like to stick around ‘til then?”

Jean blinks in confusion, then seems to get flustered, realizing what Wymack likely wants to discuss. He curls in on himself a little, not frightened, but more than a little shy. “Okay?” he tries to straighten back up, tug up his confidence. “What did you want to talk about?

They talk about Jean, at length.

Wymack gets the feeling Jean has never had the time or opportunity to even _think_ about himself this long beyond what he was willing to do to survive. Everything Wymack asks him is gentle and basic, but it seems to confuse Jean that he actually wants to know. Jean has a lot of holes in his ‘casual conversation’ topics, most of them filled with exy and school as he was never allowed hobbies. But Wymack tries to steer him to little things, with a fair amount of success.

They talk about his favorite colors and the games he might like but never got to play. Wymack laughs when Jean says his favorite animal is a cow, because people can’t actually tip them over, but Jean seems to like the stories about the dumb boys who try anyway, manages a smile with Wymack. He doesn’t listen to much music, except what Jeremy listens to which is all “ _popular garbage_ ” that Wymack thinks Jean is ashamed to admit he actually likes. Classical reminds him of Kevin, so he listens to that sometimes, too. Jean has never really done crafts, but…

“Actually,” Jean’s face goes complicated, when he looks sidelong at Wymack. “I’d like to try art projects. I never…” he stops and Wymack gets it. _Jean was never allowed hobbies._

Wymack promises they can do that when Jean comes around, encourages him to try it at USC.

On the drive over to the tower, Jean is talking about food on the different coasts and Wymack is talking about finger foods and little snacks. Jean is already a lot more at ease, even if they aren’t to the point where he can quit looking over like he expects Wymack to change his mind at any moment. They’ll get there.

“Before you go,” Wymack says as they pull into campus, “I want to know how you feel about having a little buddy?”

 Jean’s brow quirks. “How do you mean?”

“I have another new little, Seth Gordon…” Wymack starts, then stops because the recognition on Jean’s face is instantaneous. He looks sick and relieved in equal parts.

“He’s ok?” Jean asks quietly, because, _fuck_ , of course he knew. Or at the very least suspected, but as the person suffering the brunt of Riko’s sadism, Jean had to have known he would cross lines like they weren’t even there. Seth got shoved into the crosshairs Jean had been living in since he was thirteen.

Wymack swallows down the spark of residual fear, it’s all over; he _chokes_ down his rage, no use wasting it on dead men. “He didn’t ruin either of you, kid.”

Jean’s face twinges and he looks away. “Gordon doesn’t want to see me.”

“He might not,” Wymack allows, “but not because he blames you for anything. Nothing Riko did was your fault.”

It looks like Jean is swallowing something sour, but he doesn’t argue outright. Progress. Whoever USC’s Betsy Dobson is must be putting in _work_.

“I figure it’d be good for both the… _youngest_ littles, I guess, to have some time to adjust without,” Wymack motions at the dorms coming up ahead, finishes laughingly, “the rest of the fucking circus.” He turns to Jean when he puts it in park, “Little kids aren’t meant to grow up alone. I’d like you to have someone.”

Kevin, ideally, one day, but he knows that’d be a lot for both of them right now.

“Not you?” Jean asks hesitantly and, well shit, Wymack’s heart is melted, when did he start getting attached like this? It’s annoying.

“I’ll be here, too,” Wymack chuckles. “I mean another little, Jean.”

The door of the Towers opens to reveal Renee coming out laughing, Neil trailing behind her with his hand clutching the back of her sweatshirt. When they notice Wymack’s car, Renee throws up a hand to wave and Wymack sees the moment Neil freezes, almost lets go of her on the impulse to be discreet with strangers around. But when Wymack waves back and Jean does the same, slowly like he’s confused, eyes wide like he’s _hopeful_ , Neil stops himself. In the next breath, he just steps closer to her, half behind her— _his big sister_ —and waves, too.

“He’s not nice, right?” Jean says and it takes Wymack a moment to realize he doesn’t mean Neil.

Wymack’s eyebrows raise a little, he half wants to laugh. “No, but he’s learning.”

“And so am I?” Jean gives him the eye when Wymack just smiles at him. He looks down. “If he’s ok with it, so am I. You’re…” his mouth quirks, “You will look after us?”

“That I will,” Wymack agrees, he moves slow, squeezes Jean’s shoulder. “Text me when you land tomorrow, ok?”

Jean half rolls his eyes, embarrassed, but tentatively offers, “Yes, sir?”

“You don’t have to call me sir,” Wymack says, “Coach works fine.”

“Ok, _Coach_ ,” Jean says before he’s up and out, walking gratefully over to Renee and Neil.

Wymack laughs as Renee wraps him in a hug he scrambles to return. He can see them little together, he really can. Even if Jean’s not ready to be engulfed by the whole Fox Family, isn’t ready to be that vulnerable around Kevin and Neil, Renee will be easier for him.

Jean has never had anyone like Renee and Wymack spares a thought that it’s because there’s nobody else in the world like his baby girl.


	5. You’re Gonna Be a Big Brother!

It’s Seth’s night to close the store, so he comes in late, tight around the shoulders and not quite hiding how desperate he is to be around Wymack. It’s been that sort of day, then.

Seth generally isn’t the type to linger underfoot. Though he doesn’t have the violence-born instinctual aversion to older men that Neil—or even Andrew—has, Seth hasn’t ever exactly had the chance to associate men like Wymack with a place to seek comfort. By and large, he probably hasn’t had _any_ person in which he was willing to seek comfort. It’s made him hesitant to ask for contact except in the rare moments where he wakes up too shaken to even know where he is, much less deny how badly he needs to be held. Those nights are becoming fewer and further between, though. To be brief, Seth doesn’t typically crowd Wymack.

Tonight, though, he seems a little stressed, like he’s caught between being a raging asshole and the little brat that comes out when he needs coddling. Wymack wants to tip the scales before he has to walk Seth back from a yelling match.

“Hey kid,” he calls as he comes from the kitchen. “Wanna go shower while I plate you up some leftovers?”

Seth pauses where he’d been kicking off his shoes. “Am I staying?”

“Can you?” Wymack asks instead of “ _Do you want to?_ ” because Seth still gets a little touchy about admitting he wants things from Wymack.

He shrugs in response. “Sure?”

“Then yeah,” Wymack says, “You know where the towels are. Go shower, you smell like deli.”

“Up yours, old man,” Seth says with no heat, heading down the hall.

When he comes back, he’s got on his race car pants as was expected, but he’s also wearing Wymack’s washed-out, old _Barq’s Root Beer_ shirt. It makes Wymack do a double take, but he doesn’t comment other than arching his eyebrow. It still makes Seth’s shoulders come up defensively.

“What! Mine _smells like deli!!_ ” he defends and Wymack laughs.

“Don’t worry about it,” Wymack says, because he’s sure not worried about it; it’s _nice_. He wants Seth to be that comfortable here. “I use it as a nightshirt, too.” Seth doesn’t seem to know what to say to that, so Wymack just sets a bowl on the table, raps his knuckles beside it. “Soup’s on.”

It’s a little late for Wymack to eat again, but he sits at the table with Seth anyway, taking a small portion himself. Seth is chattering about his day between stuffing his face and Wymack reminding him to chew his food. Wymack hasn’t quite been able to gauge how much talking about the team sways Seth’s mood, but he’s still eager to talk about the exy season. If neither of them make a point to bring up anything remotely related to Edgar Allen, well, that’s fine by both of them.

Eventually, they’re sitting on the floor in front of the TV, half watching _Power Rangers_ , half playing with the little cars Wymack had gotten him. Somehow, it seems a little less like playing and more like Seth is meditating on the motion of them going back and forth between them. He’s starting to look sleepy.

Wymack almost doesn’t say anything, but he figures waiting longer wouldn’t be in anyone’s best interest. Seth is feeling pretty ok, now that he’s had time to unclench. “How would you feel about having another little around?” he asks neutrally, “Someone to keep you company?”

Seth’s gaze clears instantly, but he doesn’t answer right away. “Someone like _who?_ ”

“Jean Moreau,” Wymack answers, and there’s only a flicker of confusion before Seth’s eyes go wide and he sits up, incredulous.

“The _Raven_?”

Wymack nods, but his lips quirk because _not quite_. “Not a Raven anymore,” he says, “Over at USC this year.”

That makes Seth’s eyes narrow, but not enough to cover how suddenly unnerved he looks. “Ravens don’t just _leave_.”

“No, they don’t,” Wymack sighs, because if anyone but Rene—or a small militia—had gone in, Jean might not have even made it out. He flattens out the curl of his lip as soon as he realizes Seth’s eyes have tracked the motion.

Seth looks away, scoffs trying to appear casual about it, but he has to swallow before he can speak. “So Ricky really fucked him up that bad, huh?”

Wymack almost tells him not to put it like that but, “Yeah, kid, it was bad.”

The frankness feels like a mistake almost instantly. “How bad?” Seth asks, tugging at his bracelets.

Wymack catches sight of his scars again, frowns. “Seth, you’re—”

Seth cuts him off sharply. “ _How bad?_ ” he snaps, jumps when Wymack grabs his hand. He clenches his jaw, tense all over, but lets Wymack tug his hands apart, pressing one to the ground.

“…’bout as bad as it can get without someone dying,” Wymack says gently, knowing his tone can’t really soften the words. Seth is looking like that first night, like something is physically about to rip him apart and he’s only got his teeth to fight back with.

“Woulda been personal,” he says, fingers flexing under Wymack’s where they’re pressed to the floor. “Fucker didn’t give a _shit_ about me.”

Wymack is not going to detail Jean’s injuries to anyone. He’s also not going to get into the finer points of dehumanization; he’s not a shrink or a sadist. He knows Seth has a very fragile sense of people valuing his life, Allison the only one he ever came close to believing before now.

“No,” Wymack agrees, because Riko…probably didn’t care about anyone, not like they were humans. He squeezes Seth’s hand until he raises his gaze to meet his, a feral look in his eyes, scared and ready to fight. _Not wanting to fight_. “But I do. No, hey, look at me,” he says when Seth goes to turn away, closing a hand on the crook of his neck. “I’m asking how you feel about Jean joining you because I want an honest answer.”

“What does it _matter_?” Seth snaps.

Wymack narrowly suppresses his sigh; it matters because _he cares_. “If you think having him around would be bad for you, we won’t do that,” he says. “I’m not going to do anything at your expense, Seth. This is about you, too.”

Seth holds Wymack’s gaze until he gets his face back under control. Baseline tense, but further from breaking apart than he had been a few moments ago. He looks away in thought, then looks down to stare at Wymack’s hand over his. Eventually, he just shrugs.

 “S’not like with the others,” he says, using his free hand to push a car across the floor so it _tunks_ gently against the baseboard. “They’re too…” he runs out of steam, pressing his lips into a hard line. Somehow, Wymack gets what he means anyway.

“There’s a lot more history there,” Wymack agrees and Seth sags, gratefully. “Still, it’s probably a good idea to not just go it alone until you’re ready to see them.”

Seth considers that silently again and Wymack lets him. He also lets him take his hand back, even as he turns to sit with his back against the sofa, closer to Wymack’s side.

“I wasn’t a good brother,” Seth says tightly, quietly. “I didn’t _have_ good brothers, I don’t know… If Moreau got fucked up bad as—” He cuts himself off, grits his teeth. “I don’t want—” he turns, glares at Wymack’s chin, unable to meet his eyes, “ _Help me._ ”

And Wymack gets this, too, he thinks, on a basic level anyway. Seth doesn’t want to hurt anyone, not really. He just wants to not be hurt either, for a change. There’s a fine difference between the two for him, one he’s just starting to acknowledge. He doesn’t know how to keep them separate just yet. An angry and hurt little kid still figuring out how empathy works, how to be nice to other little kids. Wymack won’t leave him to figure it out by himself.

“You’re not going into this alone, neither of you. I’m gonna be right here, buddy. We’ll figure out how to play nice,” Wymack assures him, bumping their shoulders together. Then he smirks a little. “But you shouldn’t worry too much. He’s not too nice either.”

Seth sneers at him, already looking more comfortable. “ _Either?_ ”

Wymack arches an eyebrow at him. “You mean to tell me you don’t know you’re a dick?”

“Oh, like _you’re_ so fucking pleasant!”

It’s a fake argument and they both know it, but it is familiar enough to get them both back to comfortable ground. After another episode, Seth has come down enough to look tired again, so Wymack makes him turn in.

“Night, kiddo,” Wymack says, rubbing Seth’s head.

“Night…” Seth says, but he sounds distracted. So Wymack doesn’t quite close his door right away. Turns out to be a good move when Seth turns back from the sofa. “Coach?”

“Yeah?”

Seth doesn’t quite look at him, just holds his gator tighter under his arm. “You mean it, right? You’ll help me with…” he shrugs, mumbles, “being… good?”

Wymack is abruptly struck by the urge to hug Seth to his chest and let him go approximately never. “Yeah, Seth, I mean it.”

“Cool, cool,” Seth says, clearing his throat. “Then yeah. Tell Jean that. Then. Yeah,” he says stiltedly and Wymack nods, relieved.

“Tomorrow, Seth,” he says, “Time for bed.”

Seth nods. “Night.”

Wymack is almost too jazzed to sleep, has to talk himself out of texting Jean right that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authorial Ramblings: So long ago when I were but a wee one, I used to wear my parents ratty t-shirts to bed more than I wore any sort of pajama set. Seth definitely lived the hand-me-down life and is probably more familiar with wearing random old-soft clothes than Actual Children’s Pajamas™.


	6. In Which Jean Gets a Babysitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, kits!

Jeremy is at the airport gates right where he promised he’d be and seeing him is like being able to breathe again in a way Jean hates acknowledging.

It isn’t that he finds Renee hard to be around, quite the opposite actually, but visiting her had led to more conversations than he’d really been prepared to have. He thinks about Riko _every goddamn day_ , but talking about him out loud wasn’t a relief, it felt a lot like vomiting. Kevin took it because he had to give it, too, but when they finished, had said as much as they had to say, they were just left feeling… well, empty. In all fairness, Jean could stand to be empty of his feelings regarding Riko. He’s _not_ , he never will be, but this is still a start of a life where he thinks he’ll be able to live with that.

And then, of course, there’s _Coach Wymack_.

There was no part of Jean’s life that should’ve led him to a conversation like that, an _offer_ like that. Any sort of compassion he’d received after becoming _3_ had been fleeting and costly, never freely given, never truly for _his_ sake. Wymack hasn’t given any indication that he _wants_ anything at all, though, so Jean doesn’t know… He doesn’t quite know what he feels about that, much less how to process it. It’s all so new he doesn’t have a frame of reference for it.

So when he gets close enough for Jeremy to sling an arm around his shoulder in greeting, Jean immediately asks after his weekend first. It feels a little cowardly, but Jeremy is talkative and easily excitable, so he answers the question without hesitation. And really, as they’re walking back to Jeremy’s car, Jean can admit—at least to himself—that he _likes_ listening to Jeremy talk.

Jeremy has this amazing knack for filling up silence without _demanding_ it and Jean is grateful for it. There are days where it’s tiring to be around someone so energetic, but more than anything, Jeremy is kind and Jean generally can’t help but relax when they’re alone together.

But as was said, Jeremy is kind, so even with his inclination towards babbling, he cuts himself off to nudge Jean. “But you’re the one that did interesting stuff! How was your trip? How is everyone?”

“It was fine,” Jean answers shortly, but finds himself melting a little because he can’t help it. He looks down at his lap, picking at imaginary lint. “It was good to get to see Renee again, she’s—lovely,” his voice clips off, but he can’t help but smile when Jeremy beams at the admission. “She and Neil took me out for dinner. And Neil and Kevin are, ah…” He means to say they’re doing well, that they seem happy, but that sends him spiraling back to Wymack and he doesn’t quite finish fast enough.

“Wait, _what?_ ” Jeremy stops short at a red light, eyes wide. “They’re—?”

“ _No, no_ ,” Jean cuts him off, “Not that, they just…” He clears his throat, “They’re all doing very well, actually…”

Jeremy considers that silently until the light turns green and he has to look at the road. “Sounds like there’s more to it than that…” he says, cutting his eyes at Jean in concern. “Is everything alright?”

Jean doesn’t answer for a moment, because he doesn’t know how. He thinks he’s ok, but he’s been told he has a broken metric when it comes to the word. And, well, he does feel a little off balance, but not entirely unpleasantly. For Jean, being the center of someone’s attention has, historically, only ever meant getting hurt and even still tends to put him on edge. But he spent over an hour with Wymack, just talking to him, being his sole focus, without any of it leading to pain. There were nerves, yes, and he can admit it was a relief to be released into Renee’s company. Still, he finds himself anticipating being able to go back. He has Wymack’s personal cell number and was instructed to keep in contact.

Oddly enough, Jean wants to.

“You don’t gossip,” Jean says eventually, half a question. There’s definitely a level of secrecy that has to be maintained about the sort of relationship he’s considering, especially with a collegiate coach and a student “ _in the process of deprograming_ ” as his therapist has called it. _Especially_ with a collegiate coach who just found out he had a son and decided to take on nine extra kids in such an intimate way.

Jean stills, confused, when Jeremy pulls over into a strip mall, throwing it in park and turning to face Jean completely. “Not when I’m asked to secrecy,” he says seriously, “and nobody’s in danger?”

Jean shakes his head. “It’s nothing bad.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Does he? Jean has more than just his own secrets to guard, but Jeremy has never been malicious a day in his life. If he says he won’t tell, he won’t; Jean doesn’t so much _believe_ this as he _knows_ it. If nothing else, he could tell him because of that. Honestly, though, he talks because he is feeling off balance and alone and Jeremy—in spite of his initial confusion at the close contact—lets Jean cling to him without calling it that, without commenting on it at all.

So Jean, carefully leaving out what he knows of the others, tells him in general terms that everyone is doing very well and Renee has led him to an explanation as to why. He can’t quite look up, speaks with his hand over his mouth— _a habit he would’ve been admonished and punished for, previously_ —when he confesses what Wymack has offered him. Even knowing Jeremy is mostly made of benevolence, Jean can’t help but being braced for the disgust to mar Jeremy’s face.

It never comes.

Jeremy listens patiently, quietly, even if he’s a little wide eyed. When Jean runs out of things to say, can’t figure out what question he even wants to ask, Jeremy tilts his head. “You mean Wymack is gonna be your Daddy?” he asks plainly and Jean’s mind fuzzes out.

“ _I’d sooner cut out my own tongue,_ ” Jean hisses, before he can even tackle the fact that Jeremy said it so _easily_ , without judgment, and like _he knows what it means._ The confusion hits him the second he stops speaking. “Wait,” he starts, shutting his eyes and raising his hands. “ _Wait,_ are you…?”

Jeremy looks a little too delighted by his embarrassment, but the way he laughs is friendly, not teasing. “No, I’m not a Daddy,” which is _not_ what Jean had been implying. “But it’s not that unusual these days, Jean. I mean. _Coach Wymack_ asking you is definitely a surprise, but…” His face wrinkles in thought, “He doesn’t _seem_ predatory? Renee wouldn’t set you up for that.”

“He’s not and she wouldn’t,” Jean agrees. “I’m just…” He waves his hand around, “I don’t know what I am.”

“A little, right?” Jeremy teases lightly, but his face goes serious again. “Do you _want_ to do this?”

Jean feels flush as he decides not to lie. “Yes,” he confesses, a nervous twist in his chest. “I think he means it. He wants to look out for me like that and I want to let him, but I’m—here.” And, ah, that’s it, that’s why he’s off balance. Knowing he has somewhere to go back to, _someone(s)_ to go back to is new and exciting. It doesn’t negate the fact that he’s separated from them, will be for most of the time.

“Oh, yeah,” Jeremy says in a tone that’s just short of outright cooing. “Having a daddy long-distance can be sorta hard, huh?”

Jean glares at him. “He’s not my—” he cuts off when Jeremy sits up straighter in his seat, face suddenly brightening.

“Wait!” Jeremy exclaims, bouncing slightly in a way that shakes the car. “I can take care of you while you’re here!”

“ _What?_ ”

“Yeah, sure!” Jeremy says, with an easy shrug and one of the most genuinely kind smiles Jean has ever seen on a human face. “We’re friends, right?”

“I—Yes?” Jean answers, startled by the question and the fact that, well, yeah, he guesses they are friends. His teammates are… people he’s grown not to hate, but Jeremy is probably his only friend here.

He’s also the only person outside of the Foxes who will _ever_ know Jean’s a—a _little_.

“Then let me look out for you in between!” Jeremy says, “Not like a daddy, but like— _hmmm_.” He actually scratches his head in thought and this man is _Jean’s best friend, Jean hates him except for how he doesn’t at all._ “Like a babysitter!” he decides finally.

“A babysitter.” Jean parrots flatly. He goes to lean away when Jeremy is suddenly in his space, but it’s a reflex, he’s not bothered by his proximity anymore.

Jeremy is getting to the point of understanding that, so he just smiles, stays leaned over the arm rest. “Yeah! I used to babysit kids all the time in high school,” he explains. Then he laughs, a touch giddily, “I’m the boy next door! If you ever start feeling like you’ve been home alone for too long, let me know, ok?”

“Why would you offer that?” Jean asks, because he’s… Jean’s _a lot_ , even as an adult. He can’t imagine he’ll be much easier to deal with as a little, Jeremy has to know that.

“When you first agreed to come, I promised I wouldn’t leave you to go through it alone,” Jeremy reminds him, “This is just like that, except _you_ gotta relax and let me do more sometimes.”

“I don’t want you sacrificing things for me.” Jean says. He wants to knock his hand away on instinct when Jeremy reaches to ruffle his hair, but also…there’s a faint warmth glowing in his chest as he’s jostled with the motion.

“I’m not,” Jeremy says easily, “I like taking care of people and I like _you_. Two of my favorite things in one package!”

As much as it throws Jean for a loop to be considered anyone’s favorite, there’s an ease to Jeremy’s words that makes Jean take them at face value. He’s not contriving a story to make Jean feel better about… about _needing_ him, he’s just being honest. They’re friends and Jeremy wants to look out for him. Honestly, Jean thinks it might be a bit easier to adjust to Jeremy than to Wymack, less far to go on the path of building trust. He bites the inside of his jaw, feeling… quite small. In one weekend, he’s gotten two different caregivers and it’s left him feeling very warm.

“Do I still call you Jeremy?” Jean asks uncertainly, “When you’re…?” he doesn’t finish, _my big, my babysitter, taking care of me?_ He isn’t sure exactly where that line is.

Jeremy thinks for a moment. “How about Jer?” he says, “If you call me Jer I’ll know you’re feeling little.”

Jean nods a few times. He licks his lips before he says softly, “Ok, Jer.”

The warmth all over Jeremy’s face is enough to make Jean feel squirrelly. More so when Jeremy offers his hand. Jean shakes his head silently, but he’s got a little smile on his face, too. “No? Are you sure? I can drive with just the one,” Jeremy assures him.

“…It’s ok?” Jean asks. He’s never actually… held hands with anyone, at the very least, not since he was a very small child. He’s not sure how he feels about it. The blush on his cheeks kicks up when, after putting the car back in drive, Jeremy takes his hand gently.

“Don’t ever be afraid to touch me, it’s always okay,” Jeremy says, carefully maneuvering back onto the road.

Jeremy is back to chattering happily on the drive back and Jean is quite content to occupy himself with the warmth of his babysitter’s hand and voice.

*

Jean paces the dorm for a half hour before he picks up his phone. Then he puts it down immediately and turns in a frustrated circle, feeling _stupid._ When he goes to practice a few hours later, he’s standing in front of his locker before he decides to rip off the bandage, so to speak, and jams out a hectic text.

Everyone turns to look at him when he throws it in his locker and slams the door after it, but they’re past the point of being alarmed by such comparatively small outbursts. They don’t ask him anything, and he—not for the last time—finds himself equally annoyed and grateful for the way they attempt to fold him into their conversation like it hadn’t even happened.

*

Wymack hears his phone buzz, but doesn’t check it right away.

While he definitely believes his team doesn’t need more than two consecutive minutes to cause a cataclysmic level shit show, he imagines that would probably warrant a phone call—from Dan at the very least. And right now, Abby is laying on his chest laughing softly at _America’s Worst Cooks_ while he half-watches, mostly playing with her hair. It’s a quiet night and if that’s going to change, whoever intends to change it can wait a whole ten fucking minutes for him to see if this poor asshole’s pressure cooker explodes. But no sooner has he decided to ignore it does Abby shift, leaning off him, far enough that she damn near falls.

“Stop, what are you doing? I’m gonna drop you,” Wymack warns, adjusting his arms around her as she strains her neck slightly.

“No, you got me,” Abby says confidently, squinting at his phone. She hums when the screen goes dark. “You should give the kids a special text-tone, I think that was Jean.”

Wymack pauses at that, for two reasons. Jean had already texted that he’d landed safely, so he isn’t quite sure what he’d be texting about now. Still, he grumbles as he reaches for it because, “You _did_ change your ringtone on my phone.”

Abby kisses under his chin. “Why else would you have told me your password?”

“Hn,” is all Wymack says back, opening his phone. Abby is right, he’s got a new message from none other than Jean Moreau:

_> Jeremy says he’ll babysit._

It takes a lot for Wymack not to laugh at first, then he remembers he has no reason to hold back. It’s absurdly appropriate and, still, he knows how monumental that decision was for Jean, not to mention the fact that Jean _told_ him. Abby asks him what’s going on, but before he answers her, he replies:

_> Good. I’m glad he’s looking out for you._

_> Still keep me posted, kiddo._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hey friends, the plan isn’t for this to be a Jeremy/Jean fic. Though in the spirit of fairness, Jean is probably going to treat Jeremy like…your friend’s older sibling that you lowkey had a crush on growing up?


	7. Little Men and Little Masculinity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **HEY, HEY!**
> 
> Seth uses a few slurs in this chapter, so warnings for that and his masculinity-based (internalized?) homophobia.
> 
> Being real, we all know book!Seth was not a very likable person, but this fic is about growth and growing up with a good role model. He and Wymack are gonna have a chat about acceptable bad language and what it means to be a man, because I can’t help myself ~~(or, well yes, I could, but I won’t).~~

See, here’s the thing, Wymack has by and large been winging this whole caregiving thing.

When he was younger, he had no siblings or cousins to speak of, only ever trying to keep his mom upright and breathing when she went in too deep. None of the women he’d courted had ever had kids trying to figure out where he fit in their lives, right up until Kevin and, well, that leaves him right here. With eleven grown little kids and only his instincts to guide him. And not to pat himself on the back too much, but that has been working pretty well. He may not know much about children in general, but he does know _his_ kids.

The whole reason they started on this endeavor was because the adults in their lives had filled them up with shit they shouldn’t have had to carry, he knew that going in. He’s not raising them, he’s trying to undo the ways they’ve _already_ been raised. Seeing their stories on paper and hearing them in their own—mostly little—voices later on, he feels like he has a good idea of what to anticipate dealing with, even if he doesn’t know the exact form it’ll take when it shows up.

Leave it to Seth to change that.

“So nobody was gonna mention Josten is an _actual_ fag now?” Seth exclaims a little heatedly when he comes in for dinner one night, freezing Wymack in place.

In all honesty, Seth’s words don’t even quite register at first. It’s been so long since he’s heard anything like that, it sounds foreign. When the meaning behind the words finally hits, he gets annoyed so fast the swear jar doesn’t seem like a funny inside joke anymore. He turns around from the stove, feels his expression harden. “ _’scuse me?_ ”

Seth either misses or misjudges his tone, because he doesn’t backtrack. “You heard me! The nail polish was bad enough, but is he wearing _makeup_ now? What the _fuck_ , he was practically _in_ Minyard’s lap like some—”

“What does that matter, Seth?” Wymack says, hopefully not as sharply as the “ _Shut the fuck up, Gordon_ ” that had wanted to slip out. His gut instinct is to shut this down, to just roll over it and move onto something else. “Neil’s a grown ass man, he can do what he wants.”

Seth’s looks aghast at the insinuation. “A grown ass—” He laughs, a mean and biting sound. “ _That’s_ not what men do. That’s gross sissy shit.”

“Sissy,” Wymack repeats, playing up his confusion a little, like Seth is a silly kid not making any sense. “You think women are gross?”

“ _What?_ No!”

“Then what’s wrong with feminine shit?” Wymack asks, turning back to the stove a bit dismissively. Partly because he wants to dismiss this whole conversation, but also partly because he knows it’ll piss Seth off enough to keep talking. He stokes the fire anyway, “Don’t be an asshole for no reason, kid.”

Seth doesn’t speak for so long, Wymack thinks maybe that _will_ be the end of it, but really, he should know better than to turn his back on a bomb.

“ _Are you looking out for us or not?_ ” Seth shouts, the emotion in his voice startling Wymack more than the volume. He sounds genuinely angry, but not nearly enough to hide the hurt from someone who’s learned to listen for it.

Wymack turns the stove to low and faces Seth square on. “What are you talking about?”

Seth comes at him, pointing a finger at him accusingly. “You said—you _promised_ you were looking out for us, and you’re just letting him go around thinking this is okay!” He throws his arm out, face twisted with genuine disgust that Wymack feels is at least partly directed at him. “All this time you fucking let Hemmick go on like that, I thought things were different now, but it’s not, _nothing’s_ changed! You still don’t give a _shit_ , how are you looking out for us when you’re letting your kids be _fucking perverts?_ ”

Wymack stares at him, at a loss for words. He’s always said he was going to stay within his paygrade, let the team duke out their personal lives alone. In all this time, he’s never really tried to protect Nicky (or Andrew and Neil, come to mention it) from anything like this; he’s faced the public for them on all sorts of accusations, but never outright homophobia. It takes Seth yelling at him in his own kitchen for him to realize he never should’ve let that shit slide, not all the way to this point. Looking at the genuine revulsion in Seth’s eyes right now, the _betrayal_ all over his face, Wymack swears he’s going to make a point of not letting any of his players cross that line ever again.

But for right now, tonight, he’s trying to figure out how to get through to Seth without sharing too much of the stories that don’t belong to him. Neil and Nicky will tell him or not tell him whatever they want on their own terms, Wymack isn’t going to violate their trust by sharing specifics.

Even so, Seth is a fighter and Wymack isn’t going to pull punches for him when he’s going to get someone hurt.

“Seth, what would you do if someone said you deserved to die for being who you were?” Wymack says and when Seth opens his mouth in outrage, “No, wait, if your _parents_ thought you shouldn’t exist because of something you couldn’t change?”

Seth shakes his hand in Wymack’s face, trying to wave the question away. “He doesn’t have to act—”

“If the people who were supposed to love you thought you were a _good-for-nothing piece of shit_ ,” Wymack cuts Seth’s knees out from under him with his own words. “Would you let that ruin you or would you live as loud and happy as you could out of spite?”

They both know the answer. Not even just Nicky’s answer, but Seth’s answer, too. _Seth is a fighter._ He glares at Wymack, jaw tight. “That’s _not_ the same thing.”

“Because Nicky and Neil are willing to be brave about something you would’ve hidden?” Wymack says and it doesn’t feel like a mistake right away, not until Seth’s shoulders draw up and his eyes flicker like he’s been accused. Wymack’s stomach takes a tumble, but he tries to keep his face unmoved.

Seth looks closer to throwing punches than he has in weeks. “I am _not_ a queer,” he hisses, lowly.

“Didn’t say you were,” Wymack replies with a shrug, keeping his voice as neutral as possible. “Wouldn’t _matter_ if you were.” He folds his arms and asks, _genuinely_ wants to know, “After all the shit they’ve dealt with, why do you feel like you gotta give them more shit to go through?”

“Maybe if they’d gotten shit on enough in the fucking first place, they wouldn’t have gotten hurt so bad later!” Seth defends, gesturing wildly. “If Hemmick had older brothers to straighten him out, he never would’ve—!”

The implication of those words catches up to them right at the same time, Seth’s mouth twisting like he might be sick and Wymack feeling understanding settle painfully in his chest. Even knowing that, in general, the Gordon household was never a stable one, he’d never considered the specifics of Seth basically being raised by older brothers. They were barely more than kids themselves, had been abandoned just like him, but were suddenly meant to keep a whole household together. The policing in the house was likely based on the frustrated violence of boys who’d never learned how to be adults. Let alone parents.

Wymack wonders exactly how many lessons Seth learned on the end of his brothers’ fists, how many he’s internalized. The number is probably higher than he’d first thought. He takes a breath, “Seth…”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Seth snaps at him, but not sharply enough that it covers the tight tremor in his voice. His anger hasn’t diminished, but most of the wind has gone out of his sails.

“Then don’t talk, just listen for a sec, ok?” Wymack says softly. Seth won’t look at him, but he also doesn’t speak or make a break for it. Still, even with being granted the requested silence, so much has just happened that Wymack doesn’t even know where to start.

Betsy has told him time and time again to trust his instincts when it comes to this, so he has to keep riding on that practice.

“Kid, it’s a real shitty plan to take life advice from people you don’t want to be like,” Wymack starts and Seth turns to look at him, eyes low, but mouth already curling towards a sneer. “Even if they were doing the best they could, even if they did it out of their idea of love, the people who hurt you shouldn’t get to guide your life any more than the pain they caused already does. Especially fucking not if they would do it all again.

“I don’t ‘let’ Nicky go on like anything anymore than I ‘let’ him be gay. That’s just who he is, it’s not something he, you, or anyone else can change. It’s not something I would _try_ to change. _Accepting_ that is the only choice anyone can make. It’s the choice between having him and not, and he’s—” Wymack’s voice catches and he clears his throat, “He’s my _kid_ , full stop. I would never choose not to keep him. Same with Neil and Andrew. Same with you.” The startled look that crosses Seth’s face before it crumbles in disbelief has Wymack catching him by the shoulders, turning him to face him. “ _That’s_ what being a parent is to me, hell, it’s what being a _man_ is to me. Got fuck all to do with who you fuck or how you dress, none of that shit matters.

“It’s holding onto your loved ones with everything you got in you. That can be having the strength to stick up for them, but also not giving them reasons to flinch away from _you_. Making sure they know that, whatever else happens out there? You are not going to be just another thing that hurt them.” He gives Seth a pointed look, shakes him slightly, “You’re giving it a shot being my kid, right?”

“Yeah…” Seth mumbles.

“Then Nicky and Neil? Those are your brothers,” Wymack doesn’t often aim for stern with his littles, but he has to right now. If Seth needs the structure of hard and fast rules, Wymack will do that. “You can tease and roughhouse all you want, but when it comes down to it, down to _this_ , I don’t care if you don’t like it, you will _not_ treat them like they’re disgusting. That is not the kind of team I’m willing to have anymore, you understand me?”

Seth manages to look directly at him for most of that, but towards the end his eyes drop low again. “Yes, sir,” he answer stiffly.

“No more slurs, Seth,” Wymack insists, “We don’t do that here.”

“I _heard you,_ ” Seth snaps.

Wymack twirls his finger. “Once more with feeling.”

“I heard you!” Seth shouts. “I won’t—I won’t say that shit anymore, fuck, _happy??_ ”

Wymack nods. “Yeah, I am, kid,” he says, and actually really, really is. He looks at Seth, at how awkward and huffy he is and still, at the bottom of it all, loves this knucklehead. “Can I have a hug?” Seth takes a step towards him without answering, so Wymack leans back. “You can say no.”

“I’m _not_ ,” Seth snarls, continues forward until his face is pressed to Wymack’s shoulder. After a moment, he speaks again. “You said you’d help me.”

“Sure did,” Wymack replies, rubbing Seth’s back. “I meant it, too. This is part of growing up with me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Sit down ‘til I finish dinner. Nothing exciting tonight, try some… _Arthur_ or something.”

“Sure.”

*

Later, Seth leaves these pictures, drawn poorly in crayon and pencil: Nicky standing in a field of flowers of all colors, with a big smile on his face and a hearts around his head. Neil in a crown, with all his nails colored, sitting on what appears to be a bored troll.

Wymack sincerely doubts Seth understands the significance of that first one, but he doesn’t say anything. He gives it to Nicky and watches his confusion turn into tentative happiness as he folds around his Coach. “You’re the best dad, you know that?”

Neil takes his with a snort, but he also looks flushed and happy. “He doesn’t know I’m not the Princess?”

“Shut up,” Kevin snaps, but the effect is ruined a little by the glittery, paper crown on his head, courtesy of Allison and Rene.

*

Nicky leaves Seth this picture, caked in glitter that falls in Seth’s lap when he picks it up: Seth, with a mean smile on his face, holding Nicky and Allison on his biceps like superman, a gold medal around his neck. Seth finds this _fucking hilarious_.

Neil’s drawing is just the two of them sitting on the ground, eating cookies and Seth suddenly wants that so badly it hurts his heart.

It makes him promise himself—and silently promise Neil, too—that he’s going to do his best to stop hiding. He’s going to work through his—his _issues_ and be the kind of person who can be a good friend. A good brother.

They all deserve that, don’t they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m making a HC that in any AU where Seth lives and gets over being a dick for the sake of it, he feels bad for the time he was. He becomes That One Guy with a hair trigger, on patrol for anyone looking at his friends funny. You blinked at Neil wrong, game over, yeet, here comes Seth’s fist!!


	8. Little Playdates: Jean and Seth

The first day they spend together, Wymack realizes he’s just created another set of monster twins because they’re both _bratty little shitheads._

Jean takes the flight out to be in Palmetto on a Friday after class. His coach hadn’t questioned it very much, knowing Jean would spend at least part of that time drilling with Kevin. And so Jean does, riding to the stadium with Neil to practice until Seth gets off work – even if the others don’t quite know that’s why they’re waiting. In the end, Seth shows up first, already spooled too tight for a relaxing evening.

“Hey, hey, come here,” Wymack says and Seth scowls.

“I’m not nervous,” Seth says way too defensively to be remotely believable, but steps into Wymack’s embrace.

“Try to be honest with yourself tonight,” Wymack says over his shoulder, “You can tell me how you feel later, but you do have to pay attention to how you feel, ok?” He cups Seth’s cheek in one hand, “This is supposed to be good for everyone. If it’s not, I need you to say so.”

Seth nods a few times, lowers his gaze. “Can I…?” His voice stalls and Wymack nods encouragingly, “Can I wear the soda shirt?”

Wymack smirks at him, kisses the top of his head, laughing at Seth’s embarrassed groan. “ _Coach!_ ”

“Yeah, buddy, you can wear my shirt,” Wymack says. “Go ahead and shower.”

The other Foxes have been keeping his phone buzzing almost steadily since Jean arrived, so Wymack takes a moment to answer them. Kevin is going to spend the night with Matt and the girls playing videogames. “ _Yes, Dad, kid friendly ones.”_ Nicky has elected to take his boys to see a movie, “ _I promise we’ll be good! Nothing scary and in bed by midnight!_ ” Renee has left Lulu the Elephant in the toy chest, “ _In case Jean wants to hold him until he gets his own._ ” Kevin says “ _If he gets scared to stay alone, he can stay with me_ ” and Wymack loves them all so much. He goes back and forth with them comfortably until he hears a knock at the door.

There’s a faint pink on Jean’s cheeks before Wymack even lets him in, and Wymack would bet it’s an even tossup between a too hot shower and embarrassment. “Coach,” he mumbles.

“Hey, kiddo, c’mon in,” Wymack smirks. He steps to the side, “Do you like hugs?”

Jean freezes a few steps in the door. “I—I think so?” he says, almost as if to himself, before he shuffles on his feet and lowers his eyes. “I haven’t gotten many.”

Wymack is well-practiced at keeping the little jolts of pain they cause him off his face. “You don’t gotta be shy about asking,” he says, offering an arm out to Jean, “You get all the hugs you want and none of the ones you don’t, ok?”

Much like the others at first, Jean hugs a little stiffly, but then surprises Wymack by tucking into it, resting his face against Wymack’s neck like it’s familiar. He hasn’t forgotten that Jeremy is made of sunshine and is also taking care of Jean most of the time. “He’s really warming you up, huh?” He only gets an embarrassed little hum in response, so he laughs. “Did he pack a bag for you?”

Nodding, Jean takes off his backpack. “He didn’t need to…” he grouses.

“Sure he did, little kids forget things sometimes,” Wymack says, pretending not to notice his blush. “Can you get dressed in your pajamas by yourself?”

Jean opens his mouth, looking half indignant before he catches himself. “I wanna do it myself,” he mumbles.

“That’s a big boy,” Wymack says proudly, Jean’s eyes darting away shyly as he does. “Seth’s in the shower, you can change in my bedroom or office, your choice.”

The nerves Wymack has been feeling all along are still there, but he tries to keep them pushed back, decides they’re unnecessary. There’s no risk here tonight, not really. If they wind up not liking each other, they don’t have to be together afterwards, easy as that. Wymack isn’t so pressed for time that he can’t make it work seeing them separately, especially not when Jean is long distance and has a secondary caregiver. Jeremy is apparently having a blast with a little to look after, and Seth is getting closer to the Foxes in a much healthier way than before. This would be good for them, but not having it wouldn’t be a total wash either.

Then again, it sort of annoys him that he’s taking such a nihilistic view on this. They _really_ could work out well together; Renee and Allison know Seth in the intimate way that is unique to friends and siblings. There are things that only Wymack can know as a caregiver, but there are things only sisters know, too. They’d seen something there and Wymack doesn’t want to dismiss their intuition. Seth and Jean could wind up being really good for each other.

As Seth steps out of the bathroom, warm and shower soft, Jean comes out of the office wearing a red onesie that hooks over the thumbs, KNOX and Jeremy’s number on the back. It is obnoxious and absolutely darling, something Jeremy clearly must have picked. It already looks well-worn, and Jean fiddles with the sleeves like it’s habit.

They both go still when they see each other, abruptly stopped in the hall on their way back to Wymack.

Seth eyes the onesie, but compared to what Wymack would’ve expected a few weeks ago, he doesn’t comment on it. Though, his _Hot Wheels_ bottoms don’t really give him much of a leg to stand on, to be fair. “Moreau…”

“Gordon…” Jean greets, just as cautiously, standing prim and straight like he’s in front of an audience he can’t relax in front of without punishment. Well, _that_ wouldn’t do.

“Ok, now that we’ve gotten the legal greetings out of the way, how about we come down a little?” Wymack says drily, earning two sour looks. “Come on in here, let’s chat, alright?”

Almost immediately following, they start arguing.

Wymack puts his head in his hands. “You fucking two…” he sighs because this _was_ the right choice, but it was also a _mistake._

They’re evenly matched in brattiness and it shows in the way they’re rude to each other, without getting outright hurtful enough for Wymack to really feel the need to stop them. It makes sense, he can feel a fondness for them welling up under the headache they’re threatening to give him…

“Don’t be such a baby,” Seth snaps at Jean.

Jean crosses his arms huffily. “Is that not the point?”

Seth takes a breath like he’s about to argue, but then pauses there. “Well damn,” he says, before he starts laughing. “I guess I’m a big brother, then. You gotta listen to _me_.”

“Like _hell I do,_ ” he replies, voice pitching high.

“Keep telling yourself that, baby,” Seth replies, turning to Wymack with a smile a touch too sweet to be genuine. “Hey, Coach.”

Oh, Wymack’s involved in this conversation now? “What?” he says, his chin propped up on his hand, watching them with tired interest.

“Am I big enough to make bottles?”

…That’s actually a fair question, so much so Wymack can’t even formulate a response right away.

“You’re not funny!” Jean’s eyes are bright with annoyance, but he’s also lost the tension he’d been carrying earlier, leaning over the table to talk in Seth’s face, Seth leaned away from him smirking, unbothered.

“Seth, don’t harass the little one,” Wymack says eventually, watches Jean go wide-eyed and flush.

Not even bothering to try looking innocent, Seth smiles like he’s having the _best_ time. “I’m not!” he motions at Jean, “He’s fussy, I wanna help.”

“Coach, do you have any ‘ _don’t be a dickhead_ ’ juice?” Jean demands.

“Only enough for one, that’s why I’m asking to make you a bottle.”

Wymack knows Seth is teasing, that even if they would never admit it in as many words, they’re getting a kick out of harassing each other. It’s that thought, though, that makes him pause. Seth is definitely fond of pigtail pulling instead of just asking plainly for whatever he wants. Jean has likely only recently learned he is _allowed_ to want things period, let alone ask for them. It makes Wymack wonder how much of Seth asking to give Jean a bottle was actually a joke, as opposed to an attempt to make light of something deeply internal that unsettled him too much to say outright.

Well, he figures that the best way to put a stop to this argument _and_ answer his question is to make this a serious proposition.

“You know the sippy cups are in the pantry by the fridge, Seth,” Wymack nods to the kitchen, “You can pour Jean some juice if you’d like.”

In the blink of an eye, the smile drops from Seth’s face, replaced by slack-jawed shock as his eyes dart between the cabinet and Wymack and Jean. “There’s…?”

“Jean, since Seth’s so eager, he’s gonna get you settled while I make dinner,” Wymack says as he pushes to his feet, “I’ll get a bottle for you later, ok?”

Fumbling his words, Seth stares at him, flabbergasted. “N— I—wait, I didn’t—”

“I—I can get it myself,” Jean manages a little more coherently.

“You could,” Wymack shrugs. “But Seth is a little bigger than you and he’s feeling nice today.” He gives Seth a light look, “Right, kiddo?”

Seth pulls up short at that, a denial clearly dying on his lips right as it forms. It was a dirty trick and they both knew it, but it still wasn’t exactly wrong. He looks over a Jean who’s face evens out from indignation to plain old shock when Seth swallows, shrugging. “I—yeah, ok, Coach,” he answers, almost shyly meeting Jean’s eyes for a moment. “Apple ok?”

Jean works his mouth several times before he manages to give a befuddled, “Sure?”

Wymack set to pulling out the ingredients for dinner, keeping half his attention on Seth as he filled up a generic blue sippy cup with a soft top. He turns to watch as Seth awkwardly sits back down at the table, pointing the juice at Jean’s face. “Say ah?”

“That’s not how you feed a baby, jeez, Seth,” Wymack chuckles, “Come here, on the sofa, let me help,” he continues before Seth can let his sharp tongue get out of hand. “You sit first.”

Settling Seth into the corner of the sofa is simple enough, though neither of them seem to know how to deal with it when Wymack has Jean sit sideways, half across Seth’s lap. “Is this ok?”

Jean glances up at Seth a little hesitantly, clearly quite unused to being handled this way. “O—okay?”

“Okay,” Seth says with a little more confidence, likely picking up the slack of Jean’s hesitation. Wymack wants to nurture that protective instinct, to get Seth to _care_ enough to nurture it himself.

“He’s little, remember? You gotta help him,” Wymack says, even though really, most of Jean’s weight is going to be on Seth’s legs, not supported by his arms, “Yeah, just like that. Are you going to open up for him, Jean?”

Jean does nervously, but Seth doesn’t try anything funny. He sets the spout in Jean’s mouth, keeping his arm angled where Wymack puts it. “That’s a good job, buddy. Thank you for helping me take care of our new baby,” he says and all this time of having littles has made it come out less stiltedly than it might have before. It doesn’t _land_ very easily though, it makes them both so _awkward_.

Wymack realizes almost right away that’s because it makes them both feel genuinely _little_. The internet is rife with videos of older siblings holding younger ones for the first time, awed and careful. At first, they’re just so unsure of themselves, Jean who is unused to being held gently and Seth who is unused to having to care for someone he sees as small and fragile. Jean is stiff in Seth’s lap as Seth struggles to figure out what to do with himself even as Wymack guides his hands.

“You think you’ll be ok until I put dinner on the stove?” Wymack says, a warm hand on the side of Seth’s neck. “I’ll be right there if you need me.”

Seth looks at him with wide eyes before looking down at Jean, adjusting himself so Jean is supported a little better on his thighs. The sippy cup slips out of Jean’s mouth and he makes a soft, startled sound that Seth mimics back soothingly as he rights it. They both look surprised by this, even as Seth says, “Yeah, I got him.”

“Ok,” Wymack says, ruffling Jean’s hair as he turns away.

Dinner for them is pretty simplistic, most of the time, so he gets the veggies in the oven and the chili warming on the stove pretty quickly. By the time he comes back to the sofa, he has to pause just to get a look at the image the two of them make. Jean has sagged into the crook of Seth’s arm, eyes sleepy-soft and staring at the rise and fall of Seth’s chest. Seth looks like he’s actually a little stunned to have been able to get anyone to that level of comfort.

When he spots Wymack looking at him, he starts to look embarrassed, but Wymack says, “Good job, buddy. You’re doing great. Do you want some more juice?” Jean looks a little reluctant to have to let go of the sippy cup to speak, shakes his head mutely. Wymack will have to talk to Neil about where he got those pacifiers. “Seth?”

Seth shakes his head. “I can have some with dinner?”

“Of course,” Wymack says, “Ten minutes. Figure out what you want to watch.”

They decide to watch SpongeBob because when Jean says he’s never seen it Seth almost chokes on his food. All in all, they seem to smooth over as the night progresses even if they can’t help but take jabs at each other every now and again. Wymack is careful to reign it in if they get a little too short with one another, but being with Jeremy has already gotten Jean into the mindset of having a someone look after him who isn’t quite a Big. Seth is quickly learning and Wymack thinks his little age is settling, too. It feels like he’s probably going to be the oldest and it suits him. He knows what it’s like to have a shitty big brother and it’s enough to put him on the path to being better.

When Jean stifles a yawn, Wymack decides it’s probably about time to turn in. It’s been a full day for both of them and they both have busy days tomorrow as well. “Ok, boys, it’s about that time,” he says, “Jean, do you feel comfortable staying the night?”

Jean blinks up at him guardedly. “Is that ok?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t. I got mats and everything,” Wymack tells him. “If not, Kevin said he would be glad to have you.”

It’s a bit of a surprise that Jean turns to look to Seth for a moment before he catches himself, the shock on Seth’s face making him realize what he’d done. He flushes sharply, turning back to Wymack. “I want to stay,” he says very quietly to the floor.

Clucking his tongue, Wymack walks up slow, thinks better of reaching for his face and taps his wrist instead. He waits until Jean looks up at him to speak, “Then you’re staying.”

They manage not to make a mess of the bathroom even though they stand elbow to elbow and keep “accidentally” knocking into each other while they brush their teeth. Wymack only shouts once that it’s too late at night for roughhousing and it’s enough to quiet them down. He lays out the mats in front of the sofa, a little less than an arm’s length away from each other.

“Renee said you could sleep with Lulu if you want,” Wymack remembers when they come shuffling back in, he passes them to get to the wooden toy chest in his office. He smiles to find that the violet elephant smells like Renee’s lotion.

“Lulu?” Jean calls, only to go wide eyed when he sees it.

“Be nice to her, yeah? She’s Renee’s favorite.”

Jean takes the toy gingerly like he might actually hurt it by grabbing it too roughly. He stiffens a little when Seth makes a curious sound, holding Lulu closer protectively. “ _What?_ ” he nearly snarls.

“What! I...” Seth starts defensively, geared up for a fight, but seems to realize he’d startled Jean in the first place. His face still doesn’t untwist, though; he folds his arms, looking away. “I have an alligator,” he grumbles under his breath.

“Oh.” Jean replies softly.

“Well, go get him, it’s time for bed,” Wymack says, squeezing Seth’s shoulder.

Jean watches him go for a moment, before looking up at Wymack.  “Do I get one, too?” he asks.

“Sure. How about a cow?” Wymack teases. He doesn’t expect the wobbling smile Jean hides behind Lulu’s ear.

“I’d like that,” he replies honestly.

The alligator flops heavily in Seth’s arms when he comes back in, messing with the plastic-y teeth in its mouth. He looks embarrassed, but then Jean says, rather bravely Wymack thinks, “They’re friends, right?”

Seth’s mouth flickers towards a smile. “Course. He doesn’t eat elephants, he prefers spaghettios.”

Wymack laughs at that, “Ok, ok, come on, you dummy.” It’s a light tease and taken as such, Seth leaning into his hug before he lays down on the floor.

Jean is a little shier about his hug, but tucks into it the same way he had earlier. “Night-night.”

“Text Knox goodnight, too,” Wymack reminds him, ruffling his hair. “I’m here if you need me.”

The next morning is slow going, waking up easy and lazing around watching _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ while Wymack makes breakfast. Wymack has a meeting at noon, so he’s dropping them both at the tower. Jean to meet up with Renee for lunch before his flight, Seth to get in a training session with Matt and Aaron before work.

“Alright,” Wymack says, turning to look at them—Seth in the passenger seat, Jean on the hump seat. “You all ready to brave the day? Feelin’ alright?”

“Yeah,” Jean answers faintly, leaning forward a little into the front seat. “Kevin said he and Minyard will drive me to the airport later.”

“Minyard?” Seth says, shocked, maybe even a little aghast.

“Believe me, Kevin seemed surprised, too,” Jean replies before Wymack can chastise Seth’s tone. Then Jean’s gaze cuts at Wymack, too. “Everything’s different,” he shrugs. “Better.”

Wymack waves him off, feeling his face warm. “Okay, okay, great. Fuck out of my car, you saps,” he says, unlocking the door over the sound of Seth snorting. “Jean, text me when you land.”

“Yes, Coach,” Jean answers dutifully, even if there’s a bit of a smirk on his face, the asshole.

“Wait. Do you want…?” Seth stops with a wince before Jean can get out. “Take my phone number.”

Jean raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“I’m little, but I’m still bigger than you,” Seth explains, defensively. “Take my number. Just ’case you need something.”

There’s a smile threatening to take over Wymack’s whole face, but he thinks that might break Seth’s chill, so he hides it in his hand. The surprise on Jean’s face is quite sweet, but he hands his phone over for Seth to type out his number.

“Cool. Cool, I—” Seth takes his phone back and bails out of the car, with a quick, “Have a good flight or whatever.”

There’s a moment when Jean lingers like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself, watching Seth go…almost sadly.

“Are you gonna be ok, kiddo?” Wymack asks.

Jean looks at him for a long moment, before nodding. “I’ll let you know if I’m not.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Wymack replies. Ruffling Jean’s hair is incentive enough for him to get out of the back seat, flushed and scowling.


	9. About Little Foxes: Jean and Texting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a little bit of anxiety/panic! It’s faint and Jean is okay.

Jean knows he doesn’t need permission to go places, but he still isn’t quite ready to do most things without company.

It’s getting better, he thinks on good days. At least, Jeremy tells him it’s getting better. He still spends a lot of time stuck to Jeremy’s side, but it doesn’t seem like he’s getting under Jeremy’s feet at any rate. Even on days that Aren’t So Good, he believes Jeremy actually likes having him around, as a friend, of course, but… as a little, too.

“Jer,” he says and Jeremy is there, tutting at him and holding him close.

_My sweet boy, what’s wrong? Did you miss me? Do you miss your Coach? I’m right here, ok? Don’t look embarrassed, even big boys need help sometimes, I got you. It was just a nightmare, you’re safe, they can’t hurt you now. I’ll hold you for a while, ok? I’m really glad you asked me._

It’s nice, and yes, it helps so much it hurts Jean to think about too carefully sometimes. But Jeremy is a grown up with his own life too and Jean wants… _God,_ Jean is letting himself want Jeremy in his life long term, so he doesn’t want to burn him out. Even if he stays little for—for _however long_ , he wants Jeremy to know he’s not going to crumble without him. But pacing his dorm alone, he’s not quite able to catch his breath, feeling like his heart is about to seize in his chest, he feels distinctly _not ok._

Jeremy had to go out and Jean had said he was fine to stay home alone and he _was_. At first, he was fine, could see himself passing the afternoon alone without an issue; he could see Jeremy coming home to grin at him with pride and—how _silly_ , he wants to hear Jeremy tell him he’s a _big boy!_ All it’d taken to upset that—the _one little fucking thing_ , was the thought that he needed something from the store to make dinner. He needed to leave but—

Jean _knows_ he doesn’t need permission to do anything, but now he can feel panic taking over, white knuckling his phone, unable to make himself call _Jer_. His shrink doesn’t like it when he calls his phone a “crutch”, but accepts the analogy far enough to say, “ _A ‘crutch’ is a mobility aid. If you’re having trouble moving forward, a ‘crutch’_ _is probably exactly what you need._ ” And they talk about the wonderful, patient people in his life who wouldn’t mind hearing from him, would rather he call them than spiral alone.

Calling feels like too much most of the time, but to compensate, Jean knows he texts _too fucking much._

Almost every day, he’s sending out “ _I’m leaving for class_ ” or “ _I’m going to the gym_ ” or “ _I’m going to dinner_ ” or “ _I’m going to bed_ ,” just to make it feel less like he’s breaking rules he’s not even being asked to follow anymore. Wymack is patient with this, has an auto-response set up for most things probably, if Jean thinks about it. But getting back a simple “ _Ok, buddy_ ” from him or a “ _sweet dreams :)_ ” from Renee or an “ _I’ll see you after, honey bunch!_ ” from Jeremy is enough to settle his heart and think _it’s ok, you can do this._ Today he feels like he’s bothered them all too much, though, and… well.

There _is_ a new number in his phone.

Waffling for a moment, Jean reminds himself rather harshly that if Seth hadn’t wanted him to bother him, he should’ve kept his phone number to himself. …Right? _Right_ , _it has to be right, because—help, Jean needs—_

Jean texts Seth. > _I need to go to the store._

Almost instantly, Jean gets back. > _Somebody stopping you??_

There’s a spark of irritation mixed with warmth at that, because Jean can’t tell if Seth is being a smartass or genuinely asking if he’s got a problem. It confuses him so much he doesn’t even respond, unsure which answer would make him feel better. Then he startles a few empty moments later when his phone rings.

His phone rings at very specific times: every three days when Renee calls to check in on him and when Wymack calls him on weekends “ _because I can’t hear your voice through text, kid, I want to check in. You still French?_ ”

Now is not either of those times and…Seth is calling him?

“What?” he answers, probably a little sharper than necessary, but you’ll have to forgive him, his nerves are shot. Seth doesn’t really do pleasantries anyway.

“ _Hey to you, too, you little shit,_ ” Seth greets. “ _You said you need to go to the store, so let’s go._ ”

“What??” Jean repeats, eloquently. “You’re not even here, what—?”

“ _I’m literally putting my damn shoes on right now, get dressed. We’re going to the fucking store._ ”

Jean finds himself rushing for his shoes before he can even formulate a protest. It’s a trick, he knows that, but Seth going with him is…a kindness he can allow himself, if Seth’s willing to give it. After all, Jean is even less used to receiving kindness than Seth is at giving it, it’s not likely they’re going to call each other out on it. “Don’t you work at a store?”

“ _Yeah, in the deli, what about it?_ ”

Grabbing Jeremy’s canvas bags out of the closet, Jean hesitates where he was reaching to pick up his keys and wallet. He thinks on some level he shouldn’t be feeling little if he’s about to go out by himself but… “I’m not…going to get you in trouble, right?”

“ _I can handle any trouble that comes my way. Are you ready to go?_ ”

“Yes, but…”

“ _J, come on, you’re wasting daylight,_ ” Seth says, and in his surprise at the nickname, Jean loses the tail end of his argument. “ _You can’t drive, right?_ ”

Jean flushes sharply, ignores the weird lurch he gets in his stomach when he thinks about not having been behind the wheel of a car since the last time he drove back to the Nest. Jeremy has offered to let him use his car, but Jean’s hands shook so badly when he picked up the keys he’s yet to take him up on it. “I don’t have a car,” he says instead of dragging himself through those thoughts. “I… But you’re going with me.”

Seth pauses then, surprise or suppressed laughter, Jean doesn’t let himself think about. “ _Yeah, I am. I’m right here._ ”

“Can you…?” Jean hesitates, doesn’t know how to ask Seth to fill his ears with something besides the static that seems to only be held at bay by his voice. “Tell me something?”

“ _Tell you something,_ ” Seth replies, something like teasing in his voice. Even just that is better, because Jean’s instinctual irritation is enough to override the quiet panic that had been trying to take over.

“Don’t be a fucking asshole.”

“ _I’m telling coach you cursed! He’s got a swear jar, you know?_ ”

The walk to the store isn’t actually that far from campus, shortened by taking the shuttle most of the way, Seth griping in his ear the whole way. When he steps off the shuttle, Jean keeps his phone in his pocket so he can keep his hands free, not for the first time grateful for Renee gifting him earbuds “ _so you can relax and talk to me!_ ”

“ _What do you need from the store anyway?_ ” Seth asks him.

“Jeremy told me to eat our leftovers for lunch,” Jean answers, walking up to the sliding glass doors, turning to grab a basket. “We don’t have anything for dinner.”

“ _Y’all don’t eat in the athlete’s dorm?_ ”

“Not on Sundays,” Jean answers under his breath.

“ _Huh_ ,” is all Seth says at first.

( _Seth only has a very vague concept of Sunday dinners being something special. Before Senior left and everyone—except Seth who was young enough for blind faith—was pretending that Senior wasn’t a flight risk. It stings for a minute, to think about again, but then he thinks about the alligator on his bed and how he very rarely eats alone nowadays and how, apparently, neither does Jean. The sting turns achy and easily ignored for the time being._ )

“ _What are you making?_ ” Seth continues.

Jean freezes in the middle of the entrance to the store. He hadn’t actually thought that far ahead.

“ _Just winging it, huh?_ ” Seth says into the pause, his chuckling turning into outraged laughter when Jean lashes into him in French. “ _I know those were swears, I’m still snitching._ ”

Jean is honest to goodness annoyed with himself for finding Seth’s voice… He doesn’t want to say soothing, because that’s _not_ the feeling, it’s just… It’s nice to have something familiar in his ear while he’s out on his own.

They settle on— _they_ , because Jean doesn’t particularly care to make a decision and Seth _never_ minds speaking his mind—chili mac because it’s simple enough to put together and keeps well. Jean isn’t exactly the greatest cook, but Seth isn’t exactly in a position to judge him. He was living off ten cent ramen with an egg cracked in it for a while there.

Jean is on the trek back home, grocery bag heavy on his shoulder, when he hears a mechanical squeaking cut through the speaker, Seth voice coming in muffled as he speaks to someone else. “ _Hey, how’s it going, sir?_ ”

“Are you at _work_?” Jean exclaims, something like guilt cutting through his chest, nearly sparking off his anxiety again.

“ _No? I picked up a warehouse shift this morning, I don’t work until close tomorrow, why?_ ”

“Where are you?”

“ _On a bus, dipshit,_ ” Seth answers testily, “ _why?_ ”

“Why are you on a bus?”

“ _Because it’s half past dark o’clock and I’m not walking my groceries back twelve blocks!?_ ”

Jean’s brain skitters to a halt at that. He finds himself stopping in the middle of the street, awash with disbelief and an emotion he couldn’t even begin to name. “You _actually_ went to the store?”

“ _Did I not say we were going to the fucking store?_ ”

“Yes, but…” Jean has to swallow, because as simple a gesture as that was, it’s… touching. It takes Jean a moment to identify the feeling, but Jean is _touched._ He’s also feeling quite little. “Did you get fruit snacks, too?” he asks, continuing his walk home a little quicker.

Seth doesn’t answer for a breath. “ _Yeah, I did,_ ” he answers, a touch defensively.

“Have one for me?”

“ _What? Why?_ ”

“Because—” Jean falters in thought, but little boys are not always eloquent. “Because you’re good.”

That makes Seth laugh which makes Jean feel good. “ _Thanks, lil guy,_ ” he says and Jean can’t hear him open the package, but he does hear him chewing. Gross, but amusing.

“What kind is it?”

“ _Apple. Yours?_ ”

“Mixed berry.”

“Wait ‘til after dinner to have one,” Seth says and Jean forgets to tell him he’s not the boss of anything for the span of two whole breaths before they descend into a good natured argument about older kids who think they run everything.

When Jean finally makes it back to the dorm, he almost doesn’t want to get off the phone. But he doesn’t want to steal all of Seth’s time and… now he feels like he can hang up without it leading to a breakdown. “Hey…” he begins.

“ _What?_ ”

“Thank you.”

Seth grunts, but doesn’t actually acknowledge his thanks beyond that, something for which Jean is oddly grateful. “ _Bye, J._ ”

“Goodnight, Seth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welch’s fruit snacks have taken over, but Mott’s apple flavor gummies are The Best.  
> HC: Jean texts so fucking much to compensate for learning to be able to do things alone. 
> 
> Question: Does Nicky seem like the type to call Wymack his daddy in the privacy of his own head?


	10. Baby’s First Photo Album

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little break to show what the others are up to when they’re little but not with Wymack.

The jokes about Wymack starting a scrapbook are slowly becoming less and less of a joke as time goes on.

Obviously, he still sees the team almost every day at practice and they still have their own little nights. But designating time specifically for Jean and Seth means they’re spending some little time alone. Which means that some nights Wymack needs to be reminded that they’re carrying on all right unsupervised.

They’d already been sending him pictures, but Abby must tell them he likes it, because he starts to get a lot more _._

*

Nicky is feeling little.

It’s ok for him, he thinks. He’s not the littlest one, not a baby, so he can be a big boy and look after himself. He leaves class alone, but he’s not scared. He looks both ways before he crosses the street and doesn’t take anything from strangers. He doesn’t block the doorway to the dollar store when he gets there, stands politely to the side. He asks his daddy permission when he wants something.

_> Dad, can I buy bubbles for the twins?_

He smiles when Wymack sends back: _> Just for the twins?_

_> Nooo :)_

Nicky is polite and puts his phone away when he’s chatting with the cashier. It’s not a lie, but he does feel a tricky flash of joy when he says he’s buying stuff for his little cousins.

When he gets back to the dorm, Aaron is playing a video game and Andrew is watching absently and Nicky is so happy to just see them _together_ he smiles even bigger. He’s pretty sure he’s been smiling the whole way here.

[Bubbles!] Nicky signs because he learned it on the way specifically to show them. [I got b-u-b-b-l-e-s!]

It takes a little wheedling to get them to come outside with him, but eventually Andrew gets up. Well, before he gets up, he touches Aaron’s wrist and Aaron takes his hand on reflex. They both go quiet, looking at each other, before separating and standing.

Andrew leads them to the roof.

It’s nice! Nicky didn’t think this was the sort of thing that would hold their attention for very long, but they actually stay up there for quite a while. Nicky chatters to fill the silence while the other two blow bubbles and watch him. He doesn’t have anything big or important to say, but they _listen_ to him, and he feels so wonderfully happy and loved he doesn’t know what to do with himself. When Aaron gets tired of bubbles, he doesn’t even get up to leave. He just passes his tube to Andrew and stills like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

Nicky finger waves at him. [You want to go in?] he asks, because socially, even with them, Aaron tends to get tired fast.

Aaron surprises him by shaking his head. His hands come up in fits and starts. [Can I lay down?] he asks, motioning at Nicky’s lap without looking.

Of course, he can, _of course._

The setting sun still leaves it a little bright outside, so Aaron’s eyes squint nearly shut with it shining down into his face. Still, Nicky is a good boy and asks if he can take a picture before he does.

Nicky has to hold his phone above his head to get all three of them in the picture. Sitting on the roof, Aaron looking unusually relaxed, laid back with his head on Nicky’s thigh. Andrew is sitting cross-legged off to the side, but so close that his knee is nearly touching Nicky’s. He’s blowing bubbles, unbothered by the camera.

_> Image Saved!_

*

Neil has been told he doesn’t have to knock to come into the girls’ dorm.

It’s not usual that he comes over unannounced, anyway, but somewhere in the middle of all of this, the little boundaries the team had set up before have fallen away. They still have their own dynamics between each other, but there are no more Monsters vs Everyone Else. They’re all Foxes and it settles something in Neil’s spirit to know that.

All to say, when Neil starts feeling small while Andrew and Aaron are at their session with Betsy, he doesn’t feel the least bit weird about going over to see what the others are up to without asking. Some part of him should probably feel weird when he knocks on the _bedroom_ door and Allison answers, half dressed and drying her hair. But then she smiles at him and kisses his cheek and it’s not weird at all. This is his sister.

On some level, Neil can’t think about his mother in a positive sense, is slowly coming to understand what she did to him was not _all_ his father’s fault. But he can remember being young, very young and sitting on a bed in a nice house, thinking things were going to be ok for once, as his mother strode around the room getting dressed.

Things were not fine after, of course not, but Neil tries to push the specifics of why out of his head for now. Things are different now, he knows that for sure, and being with Allison makes it easier.

Allison moves and twirls around the room for no reason, like she’s bored and entertaining herself with her own body as much as their conversation. She’s got on slouchy pajama pants that match her sports bra and Neil likes the color grey. She’s just showered and the room smells like a dozen beauty products he couldn’t identify under duress, but all comforting. Alli is good—only good, always good, no heavy hands to complicate the matter—and Neil loves her very, very much.

“Hey.”

Blinking back to himself, Neil realizes he’s been staring at her this whole time, feeling safe and at home and—

Allison tilts her head at him. “…Are you getting little on me, baby boy?” she asks.

Neil blushes a little at the nickname, but nods. He starts to put his finger in his mouth, stops himself. “Are you bigger than me?” he scooches over some so she can sit beside him on the bed, but she still sits close to him. He finds this sort of funny and also nice.

“Just a little,” she answers softly. “Do you wanna stay down a while?”

Yes, he absolutely does.

The dorms are not that far apart, Neil could go get his own pajamas, but he’s little, they both are, so they should stay inside, right? Right. So Allison lets him borrow one of her night shirts, long and plain, it hits him around the knees and smells like _her._ She doesn’t stare as he changes, but he feels her eyes jump from scar to scar before settling back on his face. She doesn’t look pitying, she looks happy and lovely. She holds out her hand and he takes it. They lay together and hold hands and tell stories, happy ones, about where they’re going and what they’ll do and things that don’t exist.

Allison sends Wymack a picture of them, Neil’s cheek on her shoulder and holding Pepper the Pony.

_> Image saved! _

*

Kevin is generally not fond of roughhousing, not off the court anyway.

It’s rare that he doesn’t know when something is going to make him feel little, he’s generally very aware of what he’s feeling even if he staunchly ignores it. Or drinks it to numbness, but that hasn’t been happening much anymore. Between AA and little space, he’s finding he’s got a lot of ways to manage himself that don’t involve blacking out anytime Andrew will let him.

This got away from itself, the point is, Kevin is usually more subdued when he’s feeling little. He and Aaron are alike in that; soft toys and quiet games.

So Kevin is a little surprised at himself when Matt pokes his side—just to get past him, into the kitchen—but it _tickles._ Part of Kevin is annoyed, he _never_ should’ve let them know he was ticklish, they won’t let it go. But another part of him—the part that lets out a shrill squeak—is suddenly _little-little_ and spins around to tickle Matt back on reflex.

Oh, it’s no holds barred then.

Kevin tries to escape, but only sort of. Matt isn’t trying to hurt him and Kevin doesn’t really want to fight back hard enough to get away. He’s whining “ _Stop! Knock it off!_ ”, but he can’t get the grin off his face and hasn’t stopped tickling Matt either.

Matt visibly loves this, he loves it so much. He is more inclined towards touch than anyone, his favorite thing to do is give kind touches. Kevin hasn’t— _none_ of the Foxes have been touched gently enough for most of their lives, have not gotten to gasp and _laugh_ under anyone’s hands. It does something for Matt to see Kevin alive with laughter in a way he almost _never_ is, just because Matt is playing with him.

They’re half-wrestling on the floor of the living room when Dan and Renee walk in, immediately bursting into laughter.

“Truce, _truce!_ ” Matt laughs, because Dan will legitimately make him wet himself with laughter if she gets involved. He’s panting for breath, but he holds a hand up, falling onto his back on the floor. Kevin stops, too, but falls back on top of Matt instead of the ground. “ _Oof!_ Jeez, Princess!”

The bright giggle Kevin lets out is the _best_ thing Matt has heard today, even as he tries to smother it with his hand. Kevin is sweet and flush, still shaking with residual laughter, unable to get ahold of himself now that he’s started. It makes Matt keep chuckling, too, right up until Kevin _snorts_ and then Matt is _howling._

Dan is the one to snap the picture. Kevin smiling with his whole face, tears in his eyes, and Matt with his head thrown back laughing.

_> Image Saved!_

*

Renee doesn’t scare easily.

Mom has told her this is because she is no stranger to bravery, has been brave her whole life, but especially now. Her Dad, her new one, her _Coach_ , would be inclined to agree. Renee doesn’t have to ask, because he tells her without prompting. He’s proud of her, he thinks she is wonderful and kind and _brave._ She is _his_ and he is glad. She is glad, too.

And she can take care of herself. Yes, the fighting, that will always be there ( _Andrew will always be there, too, now,_ her mind supplies with a faint rush of happiness), but also her _little_ self. She can get herself toys, and treats, can love herself. It is a fight, some days, but God made her special, her mom said so, and she _will love herself._

Some days, though, everything feels really, really big and she isn’t _afraid_ , but… Hesitation without thought is foreign to her, she doesn’t like it.

“Dani,” she says, one day. Dan and Nicky turn to her, then turn to follow her gaze out of the coffee shop where they were “studying” (see: chatting).

They grin. “Yes!” Nicky says and then Dan has her by the hand. “That sounds fun!”

Usually, when Renee gets things for herself, she goes back to the dorm and shares them in private. Her craft paper and crayons and markers, all those things, enjoyed indoors, behind _locked_ doors. She doesn’t have to keep such a careful eye on herself at home, with her Foxes, because there’s nothing to watch for, nobody who would dream of hurting any of them. There is no judgement.

Renee reminds herself, as she laces up her shoes and puts on a bucket hat, that she doesn’t need to care about anyone else’s judgement. She thinks about Neil, with his forehead pressed against Allison’s as she cried, “ _They don’t matter. Why would they matter?_ ” Nobody is going to judge them in any way that’s actually important.

So she meets Nicky and Dan outside, a plastic box of sidewalk chalk clicking softly under her arm as they leave.

They set up in a mostly empty parking lot near the stadium and don’t draw nearly as much negative attention as Renee had thought they might. A few people glance at them as they pass, but they just sort of smile and keep walking. One girl asks if they’re a club and when they say no, they’re just bored, she laughs, suggesting they start one. The security guard that drives past in a golf cart glances over their items and—seeing it’s only chalk—tells them it’s going to rain tonight, so they should take pictures.

That, they think, is an excellent idea. They take a lot of pictures.

The one Nicky sends to Wymack is the one where Renee is smiling up at him, chalk all over her hands and a smudge of pink on her knee and Dan leaning over to wipe at the smudge of purple on her cheek.

_> Image saved!_

*

There are others, of course.

The one with Kevin looking off to the side, half-smiling at Aaron, a lopsided tiara on his head, Allison reaching to adjust it.

Or at the pop-up petting zoo, where Renee and Andrew are sitting cross-legged, knee to knee with a kitten between them.

Or all of them laying all over each other in Matt’s dorm, watching _How to Train Your Dragon_.

Or the one where the Twins are standing in Abby’s kitchen and Nicky texts “ _Lunch with mom!_ ” and Wymack legitimately almost cries.

Ok, yeah, Wymack saves a lot of their pictures, so sue him.

All new dads go through that phase, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do people still play paparazzi? That game where you gotta take pictures of your friends without them noticing and whoever gets the most at the end of the week wins??


	11. About Little Foxes: Matt and Seth

It’s easier, now, as most things are.

Matt was never afraid of Seth, or anything, but there was something scary about him, how quick he was to blow up. And Matt would fight him, because he knew he _could_ and couldn’t say the same for the others, but even then, he mostly worried. Oh yeah, Matt was pissed off, getting punched in the face pisses him off, but he also could see himself coming out the other side of a fight okay. Seth seemed like he was always going to just stay two seconds away from a fight, on edge and angry his whole life.

Seth is still angry, but now it seems like it’s leveling off some.

Now— _Matt ducks out of the way of his fist, hits him in the sternum hard enough to stun him before disengaging_ —they only fight for fun. Or, well, Matt thinks it’s fun.

“Shit _fuck,_ Boyd!” Seth says, going down on one knee, holding his chest and heaving for breath.

Matt smirks at him. “Sorry.”

“Like _fuck_ you are.”

Seth could be Matt’s friend now.

Things are so busy now, Matt’s life is so full, that this part feels good. When it’s late and quiet, just he and Seth, he doesn’t really have to pull his punches so much. Aaron and Neil are still learning and, even here, he feels like he’s bigger than they are and has to treat them gently for now. It’s not so much that he doesn’t _want_ to be nice to Seth, as much as Seth doesn’t need it here. Seth hits hard and even if he was little, Matt still thinks he’d feel smaller than Seth. Huh.

“You know, I think you’re the oldest,” Matt thinks aloud as they’re getting dressed in the locker room. Seth snaps to look at him then, several emotions quickly playing over his face.

They haven’t talked about this at all.

Matt would argue it’s not quite the elephant in the room— _Lulu is with Renee, Matt thinks hilariously_ —because that makes it seem like something intrusive and a stiff breeze away from being destructive. They know they’re both littles, it’s just that their little spaces never overlap. Coach has been careful about that, about being gentle with easing Seth back into the team. Not the youngest, but still so new Matt can see him getting spooked and snapping. He’s happy that they’ve come to some balance between them, with these sessions and the occasional late night talk-down. Talking about this doesn’t seem like it’s going to cost them everything anymore, so Matt takes the chance.

Seth, to his credit, doesn’t shut him out immediately. He just looks away, focuses a little too hard on the contents of his gym bag. “No shit?” he replies, false casually. “Would’ve thought _Day_ acted the oldest.”

That’s so hilarious Matt doesn’t even laugh. “No, he’s one of the youngest,” he admits carefully. He doesn’t say anything about princesses or pacifiers or onesies. “Kev or Neil. Maybe the Twins, sometimes.”

“Huh,” is all Seth says at first, but it doesn’t clear the air at all, because now Matt _wants_ him to say something else.

“I’m somewhere in the upper middle,” Matt continues, not awkwardly exactly, but sounding a little desperate to his own ears. They’re alone, mostly; there’s a shower running in the back corner, but whoever it is wouldn’t be able to hear. “I can help Coach, sometimes. You know, with food and stuff. It’s nice, uh…” he clears his throat, because he’s not little right now and finds this all sort of embarrassing. “Looking after the little ones and…” Seth has turned to stare at him now and Matt’s _babbling_ , “I’m bigger than them, so I can…” He makes a motion like wrapping something up in his arms. “It’s good, you know?”

“Yeah,” Seth agrees distantly, “Coach was, uh… Thinking about getting bottles, I think.”

Matt can’t quite keep the shock off his face, but then he feels warm all over at the thought of helping Neil take a bottle. “Oh? Oh,” he says, swallows. “For you?”

“Nah,” Seth says and it isn’t until then that Matt realizes that would’ve been something enough to set Seth off before. Now he just shrugs. “I think I’m the oldest, too,” he looks at Matt then, “If the others are littler than _you_.”

Matt laughs a little, shuffling on his feet. “I think that’d be nice,” he admits, then asks shyly, “So it’s good? Y’all are…?”

Seth stops for a moment, like he’s considering his words. “Coach was always good people,” he answers obliquely, “It’s mad weird, but… that might be because it’s _nice_. Being his kid.”

“It’s nice believing him, right?” Matt offers, “He doesn’t just by the toys and turn on cartoons, he… he’s _there,_ you know?”

There’s a moment where Matt thinks Seth might actually tear up a little, but he turns away too quickly for him to figure out if he made that up. “You got toys, too, huh?”

“A doggie,” Matt answers on reflex, then goes hot that it slipped out so easily. “A dog.”

“What’s your doggie’s name?” Seth asks, ignores the correction entirely as he shuts his locker. His smile teasing, not enough to be unkind, but Matt still huffs.

“You’re a shithead.”

“I’m serious!”

“What? Are you too old for stuffies?”

“ _No_ ,” Seth says, now faintly embarrassed himself. “I got a Gator named… Gatorade?” It sounds like he chose on the spot and Matt laughs.

“Clever,” he teases, heading for the door.

Seth shoulders his bag a little more aggressive than necessary before following. “Fuck you.”

“My doggie’s name is Snug,” Mattie says happily, “I think Neil has him tonight. He and Dan were hanging out when I left.”

“They doing ok?” Seth asks. He probably means for it to sound absent, but Matt doesn’t buy that for a second.

_We miss you,_ he thinks, doesn’t feel as surprised to admit that as he would’ve before. He doesn’t say it for now, though. “They’re all good, Seth,” he confirms. “How’s Jean?”

Seth seems surprised by the question. “Ricky didn’t kill him either,” he says firmly and it takes Matt a second to realize who he means. Then he’s immediately proud of and happy for him. “He’s got, uh… someone looking out for him when he’s not here.”

Matt easily guesses Jeremy, but figures he’s not supposed to know, so he doesn’t mention it. “That’s good.”

“He’s got my number, too, so.” Seth shrugs, swallowing. “I, uh, never… It’s…”

It’s a struggle, because they were never close before. Seth was probably never close to anyone enough for pure honesty, maybe not even Allison, but Matt can feel him trying. Their conversations are still mostly shooting the shit, or focused on their form specifically, but it has been edging more and more into their real lives. Seth is still clean, still going to NA meetings, has a sponsor and a job and friends Matt would recognize by name and…

“I like being a brother,” Seth says stiltedly. “Jean is a little shit, but I…” He rolls his eyes a little, changes course, motions between himself and Matt. “We…” Matt is just about to ask what he means, when Seth turns and pulls him into a hugs so fast it’s almost like it doesn’t even happen. But Matt reacts quickly enough to close his arms around Seth for a split second before he’s turning away, the tips of his ears flushed red. “See you soon, yea?”

“Yeah,” Matt smiles, twirling the keys to his truck around his fingers.

“Call if you need something,” Seth says, starting for his car, tagging on, “Any of you.”

“Two-way street, alright?” Matt calls after him, turning away when Seth waves over his shoulder.

Matt and Seth are friends, well on the way to being brothers.

That’s a step forward they both feel good about.

*

The next morning, Seth wakes up to multiple texts, more than he’s used to getting.

Matt says sorry about his bruised ribs, winky face.

Jean is going to class and saw an alligator shirt.

Wymack congratulates him on a good practice.

Renee just wanted to say good morning.

Allison wants him to call her over lunch.

Neil and Kevin just text their names.

It takes a few minutes of unsteady breaths into Gatorade’s back before Seth can even contemplate replying.

Still, he feels weirdly lighter when he does.


	12. Seth’s Temper and Little Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seth loses his temper and scares Jean, but spoiler alert: This is a happy story and everyone is gonna be ok!

Seth learns to control his temper faster with Jean around because Wymack doesn’t think Seth wants to scare people, not really.

When he was a kid, it got him a reputation, of course, which would’ve kept him safe, if isolated. The last time he blew a fuse and Wymack had to talk him back from a full-scale meltdown, it ended with Seth opening up about the Everetts; how with them things were sort of maybe a little okay for a while. He had teammates and a coach and teacher who cared about him, but then they _ghosted_ and he _didn’t_ have anything or anyone.

“ _Because why would anyone ever care about some shithead teenager on the fast track to a dead-end road?_ ” Seth had said that night, shaking with rage. And grief, of course, though he might not have been able to admit the latter out loud, even with his face pressed into Wymack’s shoulder, trying to believe he’s never getting abandoned like that again.

Seth knows he has anger issues, he knows that, and frankly the anger is justified, if you’d ask Wymack.

That doesn’t mean he gets to take it out on anyone else, though.

It’s not often that Seth and Jean _actually_ argue. _They_ would say they did, they’d say they spent more time arguing with each other than anything else they did together, but that’d only be partly true. Picking at each other is just how they talk, most of the time. Their “arguments” are familiar and mostly made up just to fill the space between greeting each other and melting into each other’s sides. Seth still likes helping feed Jean and Jean has gotten pretty damn close to falling asleep in Seth’s arms. They still text almost every day, as far as Wymack knows, and may have even started calling. Things are getting on just fine, so of course, that means there has to be a fracture.

Wymack mostly lets their voices wash over him as background noise as he moves around the kitchen. He’s not normally away from them very long if he can help it, usually just to cook or grab something to work on while they play beside him (though he tries to make those nights few and far between). But something about the sharpness of whatever Jean just said yanks him out of his recipe, has him turning back to the living room. It didn’t sound jesting. He gets there just in time to see Seth launch up off the couch, face marred with fury, shouting in Jean’s face. “ _What the fuck is your problem!_ ”

“ _Seth!_ ” Wymack says sharply, but the damage is done.

Jean flinches— _a profoundly scared little boy clutching his stuffed cow—_ before shutting down to nothing so quickly it’s like he’d never felt anything at all. If it wasn’t for the violent shaking that has suddenly taken over his body, Wymack would think he was bored. _That_ makes him heartrendingly sad and deeply angry; to think of how many times Jean has had to fake boredom so the people hurting him would lose interest. That face has no place in his apartment, not on _any_ of his kids.

Seth looks shocked to see it, then guilty in quick succession. “I—.”

“It’s fine,” Jean snaps, but his voice is tight and angry.

“No, it’s not,” Wymack says, keeping a careful reign on his anger. “I think we need to separate for a little bit.” They both look at him, terrified and Wymack immediately regrets the phrasing. “Just a ten minute timeout. Jean, can you step in my office for a moment?”

Jean hesitates, but Wymack just nods down the hall. “I’ll be there in a second. Don’t worry, ok? Just take a break.”

Nodding nervously, Jean turns quickly and goes into the office.

Wymack isn’t quite as careful with the disappointment on his face when he turns to Seth, whose shoulders draw up immediately, even without looking at him. “I didn’t—”

“ _No_. Seth, look at me,” Wymack says and waits until Seth does to speak, lowly and firmly. “We are _not_ going to yell at each other,” he says, “If someone is doing something that hurts you or makes you angry, you say so. Tell them to stop and if they don’t, you tell _me._ You do _not_ get in their face, you don’t scream at them. You hear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We are not here to be hurt and scared, so we are going to do _everything_ we can to not hurt or scare each other. You’ve all been through enough, Seth, we’re not going to make it worse. Do you understand?”

Seth looks faintly sick. “Yes, sir.”

Wymack hopes that is genuinely the truth. He thinks for a second, because he promised not to punish them and he intends to uphold that. There’s got to be some thinking done, though. Seth has been hurt and angry for a very long time, but he needs to sit down at think about what that means for him _in the present, right now, going forward._ Wymack catches sight of Renee and Nicky’s origami paper under the TV stand.

“I’m going to go check on Jean,” he points to the strips of paper, “I want at least twelve lucky stars before you speak again. A dozen stars and we start with an apology. Think about what you’re apologizing for, ok? Not just because I asked you to, think about why this wasn’t ok. Can you do that?”

Seth nods tightly, jaw still clenched, but obediently kneels down to pull out the paper.

When Wymack enters his office, pulling the door cracked behind him, Jean has got his arms wrapped around his legs, still trembling. He looks terrifyingly young even with the complicated anger on his face.

Sighing, Wymack sits on the floor beside him. “Are you ok?”

“ _Peachy,_ ” Jean answers, eyes cutting over to him savagely, but not quite meeting his gaze. He’s crammed beside the desk against the wall, his stuffed cow the only thing keeping the baseboard from digging into his hip, likely.

“Okay, that was a stupid question,” Wymack says placidly. “Jean, we have rules here, ok? I spoke to Seth to give him a reminder—”

“He’s an _asshole,_ ” Jean snaps. “But I know he didn’t mean to, he just—” he stops abruptly, swallowing as his face pales.

Wymack gets the feeling it’s because he’s said that before, probably more than once. He figures it wasn’t about Riko, but the idea that there were others is not hard to imagine.

“Jean, you’re not going to justify other people making you feel bad.”

Jean’s eyes are too hard to be little. Then again, he was hurt such a long time ago, Wymack can’t be sure he didn’t look at every adult who tried to help just like this the whole time. “I am _not_.”

“It doesn’t matter if he meant it or not,” Wymack continues, “when someone does something to hurt you—”

“This isn’t hurt!” Jean exclaims, motioning violently at himself, motioning around the room to indicate the situation itself. “ _This_ doesn’t hurt, I’ve _been_ hurt. I’ve been hurt more times than you can fucking _hug_ me better!”

 Wymack doesn’t pause to consider his words then, not exactly. He just has to stuff down his own hurt and anger on Jean’s behalf. He’s been abused for years, Wymack knows that, but Wymack can’t touch the people who did this to him. He can only do his best to unwind some of that pain with the kindest, gentlest hands he can manage.

“No, I can’t hug you better,” he agrees easily, “but I _can_ hug you if that’s what you want or need. That’s what I’m here for. I’m not going to hurt you, not _ever_ , but I’m also not just gonna sit around while anyone else hurts or scares you. That’s not what…” he swallows. Not his coach, not his dad, he sighs, “That’s not what _caregivers_ do.”

Jean chokes out a wet laugh, sneers. “You don’t want me to call you _daddy_?”

Wymack just looks at him, brows dipping. “Do _you_ want to call me daddy?”

It takes long enough for Jean to respond that Wymack’s chest hurts a little as he watches the mean smile on his face fall. He looks down past his knees, answers haltingly, “I don’t know.”

Nodding, Wymack accepts that answer easily. “You don’t have to know that right now, I’ll wait. I won’t hold my breath, but I’ll wait, ok? Think…” he presses his lips together in thought. “Think about what you want from me, ok? For now, just understand that I _will not_ agree to anyone making you feel like you need to hide yourself or your feelings. You can’t ask me to ignore that, ok?”

Swallowing, Jean nods. “Yes, Coach.”

“Good,” Wymack says, leaning back against the front of his desk. “Now, do you want a hug?”

“No.” Jean answers instantly, but his arms unlock from around his knees. He slides over until his back is pressed against Wymack’s arm.

“Ok,” Wymack says, nodding at the cow that had been squished between Jean and the wall. “ _Cheche_ wants a hug then.”

Jean scoffs, but almost as soon as his hand closes around his toy, his face pinches. Wymack is used to his kids hiding their faces in their toys, but it’s not normally something Jean is prone to doing. His shoulders hunch next and Wymack frowns.

“Can I…?” he stops when Jean flings out his hand, palm up, asking, _shaking._

Wymack holds his hand with a near silent sigh. Crying kids never get any easier, but it’s better than watching them holding it back. “Thank you,” is all he says, knows better than to harass the silence beyond that. It rests until Jean can pick up his face, sniffing, turning away to wipe his eye on his shoulder.

“That wasn’t because of— _bad_ ,” he says disjointedly.

“No?”

“ _No_ ,” Jean insists. When he turns to look at Wymack, his eyes are teary and rimmed pink, but he looks like _here_ nothing could scare him enough to keep him from being honest right now. None of the previous fear he might’ve felt at telling the truth could choke back the words. “I really like it here,” he whines.

Wymack feels that in his chest, as warm and slow as the smile on his face. “You’re more than welcome here, sweetheart.” He runs a thumb over the back of Jean’s hand when he nods. “Seth is going to apologize for his behavior. Is that something you’re ready to hear?”

Jean sniffs, shrugs. “It really wasn’t that serious—”

“Jean.” Wymack cuts in gently, touches his knuckle to the still damp corner of Jean’s eye, cupping his head when he goes shamefaced. “We do not hurt or scare each other. Sure as hell not on purpose, but even if it happens on accident, we say sorry and do better next time. That’s a rule on my—” he starts to say team, but that’s not what this is, not _just_ anyway. “That’s a rule for my family, ok?”

Taking a moment to stare at him wide eyed, Jean nods, squeezing Wymack’s hand. “Ok, Coach, I…” he hesitates, “Can I ask you not to touch my face?”

Wymack instantly removes his hand, the tattoo on his cheek brought back into sharp focus. “Of course,” he agrees, “I’m sorry for not asking first. Are you ok with holding hands?”

Jean nods. “It’s just my face sometimes. I. I’m not ready to… ‘put new feelings over that’,” he says, like he’s quoting someone. “I will hear Seth’s apology, though.”

“Alright, then, let’s go see what our favorite lil turd is up to,” Wymack says, groaning as he gets to his feet, old fucking knees. Jean lets out a breath like a little laugh and joins him, Cheche tucked into the crook of his arm.

Seth gets to his feet as soon as they come in the room, still looking angry, but it’s dulled. He’s mad at himself and Wymack knows it. “Jean, I’m—”

“I know you’re not— _Riko_ ,” Jean blurts, stumbling over the name, and Seth freezes in the middle of his apology, Wymack freezing up right along with him.

Neither of them interrupts him, though.

“I know you’re not Riko,” Jean repeats, angry, staring at Seth’s chest. “You’re nothing like him, but it wasn’t always _him_. Most of the time it _was_ , but he’d…The other’s weren’t—” he sucks in a breath, clenching his fists and his whole body a line of tension. Cheche squished at an odd angle against his side from the pressure. “Sometimes he’d make our teammates… They’d do _anything_ he…” his voice splinters around the edges and he closes his eyes, clenches his jaw.

Instantly, Wymack wants to put another bullet in Riko’s head, sees a similar flash of uncontrolled rage flicker across Seth’s face. It smothers after a moment, much faster than Wymack has come to expect. Seth is angry, _so fucking angry,_ but he fixes his face so he doesn’t look much different than normal.

Turning away, Seth leans down to pick up the little stars strewn across the table. Several more than twelve by Wymack’s count and holds them out to Jean. He mostly manages to keep them from falling, but still stands stiffly, trying to keep a hold of them and Cheche. He looks down at them and then back up at Seth in confusion.

“I’m sorry for shouting,” Seth apologizes, “I don’t like talking about what happened, but I should’ve just said that, not screamed at you. I’ll try not to do it again.” Then his face twists, and he shifts on his feet. “It’s hard. I don’t always mean to, it just comes out. The yelling part is hard,” he says then points to the stars in Jean’s hands, “but not these.”

Jean looks as baffled as Wymack feels. “These?”

Seth looks faintly embarrassed. “I made twenty two promises I would never, ever hurt you,” he says, “even if I slip up and yell, _I will not hurt you_.”

Swallowing, Jean looks down at the tiny, sloppily folded stars in his hands. “Nobody… People don’t promise that.”

“I’m not _people_ , I’m Seth,” Seth sneers, but it’s faint. He’s completely serious. “I promise you…” he shakes his head, “I promise _myself_ I’m not going to fucking hurt you. Anyone who even tries is going through me.”

There’s a moment where Jean just stares at Seth like he isn’t quite sure this is all real. The idea of someone willing to stand between him and someone trying to hurt him so foreign it seems like fantasy. Then he’s glancing around the room, “I—Can you…?” he gives Seth the stars back, puts the cow in his arms, too.

“Jean?” Wymack says, because this doesn’t seem like he’s making a break for it, but Seth looks rebuked and, if Wymack isn’t mistaken, faintly scared.

“Just a moment,” Jean says, riffling through his overnight back. Eventually, he pulls out a water bottle, examines it before coming back over. He opens it and motions at the stars. “To keep them somewhere safe until I can put them somewhere nice.”

Seth relaxes all at once, the invisible strings of tension cut off his shoulders. “Okay,” he says, obligingly dropping all twenty-two of them into the bottle while Jean holds it steady.

“And.” Jean stops, sits the bottle on the table and looks down at his shoes. “And I’m sorry. I won’t, ah… ‘ _joke my way through’_ what Riko did to… did to us,” he chances a glance up at Seth, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Seth nods slowly, mouth twisted like he doesn’t know what he means to say until it’s out. “Okay, I. I accept your apology?”

“Oh, yes, likewise?”

They’re both so intensely awkward in that moment, Wymack almost wants to break it with something light. A joke about hugging it out, an empty threat about ‘Get Along Shirts’, but before he can, Jean holds out his pinky. The way he does it doesn’t seem forced or uncomfortable, that’s the part that surprises Wymack. It seems like something remembered, maybe rusty in its execution, but a familiar sense memory. Wymack distantly remembers linking fingers with a girl in grade school after she’d told him a secret, demanded in all her tiny seriousness that he not tell anyone else.

Jean is staring at his own hand, can’t look Seth in the face when he softly confesses, “I like it here with you and Coach.”

It takes a moment for Seth to respond, the shock all over his face slowing his reaction. Then his face is suddenly open with the kind of reverence Wymack has never seen in him. Jean had been _scared_ of him—only for a moment, but he had—and now he’s here offering touch like he believes Seth’s promises. Seth links their fingers together, jaw working silently. “I like you here, too,” he admits, clears his throat as he places Jean’s cow back in his arms. “Even when you’re an asshole.”

Jean’s reflexive sneer is a point of normalcy, seems to relax them both. “Well, _you’re_ an asshole _all_ the time, so—”

“Swear jar.”

“ _You swore first!!_ ”

“I’m older than you!”

And Wymack gets it. Right then, he gets it.

Allison and Renee are _brilliant_ , his little girls are so loving and smart he wants to kiss their heads right now. Jean and Seth aren’t from similar backgrounds. They don’t even really have similar personalities. But something about the shape of their hearts, the way they were broken and grew shields, something about that makes them fit companionably together. When they’re standing next to each other just then—still holding hands as they bicker—it isn’t like they’re just Wymack’s littles, sharing their Coach’s space.

It’s a lot like they’re two little friends.

(Two little friends who both _definitely_ have to pay the swear jar, but who Wymack also unflinchingly tells how proud they just made him.)


	13. Big Courts and Little Friends

Seth has a big pile of shredded newspaper around him by the time Wymack finishes with dinner.

Betsy has been very accommodating of Wymack’s new position in life when they meet up. Of course, they mostly meet as friends and coworkers, but occasionally, she’ll coach him on raising hypothetical little ones. She is careful in her phrasing when they do, careful not to divulge anything about her private sessions with the kids. Seth’s anger issues are not a secret to anyone, though, so she has been trying to casually leave articles with guidance on “ _How to Help Your Toddlers Deal with Anger_ ” in his inbox.

The fact that Seth has started going to see her again is definitely helping. Before it was a struggle to get him to talk—and on some level Wymack gets that it still must be—but he’s working towards something now. More than ever before, Seth is committed to himself enough to let other people try and commit to him, too.

It’s resulted in a number of things, including positive outlets for his anger and anxiety.

Sometimes it’s hiking or sparring, sometimes it’s screaming that death metal bullshit he likes so much; sometimes it’s letting Wymack press his hands together between his own and counting their breaths.

Other times, he makes a mess of the ad papers.

“Were the specials that bad?” Wymack asks, coming to stand beside the mess.

Seth doesn’t even look up from tearing the paper into long strips, folding, tearing, folding, tearing. “Yeah, but don’t worry, I left out the Rogaine coupons.”

“Oh, _thanks_ , you little wiseass,” Wymack says, glowering at Seth when he smirks.

“Swear jar.”

“Bite me,” Wymack snaps, but squats beside him. “Dinner time, kiddo, you hungry?”

It’s not like Seth to turn down food, but sometimes the anger is enough to distract him from his hunger if he’s not reminded to eat. Today isn’t one of those days, though, because he finishes the last strip and stands up without making a fuss. “Yeah, Coach”

And so they eat, talking in what barely counts as a conversation as Seth’s responses get more distracted as the meal progresses until Wymack just asks softly, “Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

The look that comes over Seth’s face isn’t quite a pout, but it’s pretty damn close. At first, he doesn’t answer, seems to be pretending he hadn’t even heard Wymack’s question. Wymack is in the middle of trying to figure out whether to press the issue or assure him that he’ll listen when he’s ready when Seth shrugs.

“I miss Jean,” he mumbles.

Wymack looks up at him, takes in the anger on his face and registers the discomfort at admitting that aloud. Seth doesn’t _miss_ people, because people leave, that’s what they do, so he doesn’t _miss_ them. Saying that out loud is a lot. He looks up at the calendar hanging on Wymack’s fridge, the tacky magnetic kind that colleges give out to hype up their sports teams. The Foxes play the Trojans next week.

“I kinda wish…” Seth doesn’t finish, mouth kicking off to the side.

Seth misses exy, too.

“Soon, buddy,” Wymack promises, because it will be. Seth is looking better these days, stronger and well-rested. The hunted air that followed him around when he first showed up is gone, but so is the impulse to be constantly combative and closed off that he was known for in years past. He’s still facing down the world with a scowl, but something in him has grown brighter, more solid. Wymack can see it in the way he’s reaching out and holding down relationships, the way he’s _studying and training on his own_ to get ready. How fidgety and proud of himself he was when he came in with his half-year sobriety token.

_This_ Seth is going to have to fight, too, but he’s putting in the effort to do so facing _forward,_ like he actually wants his own future. And _that_ is exactly what Wymack is taking to the Board for consideration.

Seth just hums, though, likely still too unnerved to ask out right what the decision is leaning towards. Wymack won’t push the conversation until he’s spoken to everyone he needs to.

For now, he glances over at the calendar. “Do you want to go?” he asks. “Studying tapes is all well and good, but never the same as live. Gotta get used to that again.”

“I’m paying my own way,” Seth says instantly, doesn’t bother with the pretense of playing casually disinterested.

“I wasn’t offering to pay for you,” Wymack says, though he really would this once, he thinks. “I already feed your big ass half the time, kid. You can have my guest pass, that’s it, I’m—”

Seth grabs Wymack’s hand, twisting in his seat to put his face on his shoulder. Not quite a hug, but still a pretty high level of closeness for Seth to offer without prompting. “Thanks, Pop,” he says softly.

“Pop, huh?” Wymack rubs Seth’s back, awash with affection. “That’s a new one.”

“Don’t make fun,” Seth grumbles.

“I’m not, if I was making fun of you it’d be something about your face or your obsession with Frenchmen.”

Wymack can still take a bit of roughhousing, but Seth isn’t genuine in his shove. He mostly shoves himself backwards with a sour look that makes Wymack laugh and pat his shoulder.

*

The game is hard fought and hard lost, but Wymack doesn’t feel too badly for it. His team did excellent, every single one of them gave it their all out there. But the Trojans have taken the concept of practicing with smaller numbers to heart and they were ready for the Foxes this time. All in all, there are much worse teams to lose to. They’re gracious winners; to be quite honest, they’re _delightful_ winners, all smiles, handshakes, and compliments. After the game, they stand around talking shop and shooting the breeze like old friends.

Wymack isn’t quite sure where Jean would like them to stand publically, so aside from shooting him a nod, he stays in the huddle of coaches discussing plays. Jeremy isn’t shy at all, coming right over to shake his hand; he’s discreet, but Wymack can see the excited light in his eyes asking to be acknowledged.

“Doing a great job, Knox,” he says, because he is, as both a player and a babysitter.

Jeremy beams at him. “Thank you, Coach Wymack,” he says, before drifting back towards Kevin and Jean, as always.

Out of the corner of his eye, Wymack picks Seth out of the crowd of people with locker room passes. After stopping by the locker room—a morale boost Wymack honestly hadn’t quite expected, but appreciated none the less—he’d gone up into the stadium proper to watch the game. Now, he’s making the trek across the sidelines to them, nodding at Wymack’s wave.

“Good game,” Seth comments, and to be fair, he doesn’t sound sulky about it. His eyes are lit up in a way Wymack hasn’t seen before; he’s as eager to be back out there with them as they are to have him. Having him at the game was like chumming the water of his excitement, he’s _ready._

“You surprised, Gordon?” Wymack smirks and Seth sneers at him, before his eyes slide right past Wymack’s head. Wymack doesn’t have to turn to see what’s got his attention.

Jean has noticed Seth and his whole demeanor has changed.

There’s never been a point where Jean has publically been anything but savage or prim, not that Wymack has seen. He’s got a court persona and a press persona, both of which have started to level out towards a neutral human level, but he’s still not particularly emotive when others are around to see.

All of that comes apart when he looks at Seth, so openly stunned and bright eyed, there can’t be a single shred of doubt that Seth means something to him. Something _good._ The way he comes over, solely focused on getting close to Seth is so terribly sweet, it freezes Seth in place.

“Moreau,” he tries, casually.

“You’re here,” Jean blurts, confused.

Seth nods, looking like he feels awkward now. “Yeah, I hadn’t been to a game in a while, so—” There’s a complete excuse right on the tip of his tongue, an easy one he thought up on the way, but he stops. Wymack can tell he shoves his hands in his pocket to keep from twisting his wrists with nerves. He shrugs. “And I wanted to see you, J.”

The Foxes and the few nearby Trojans alike seem surprised by this, all except Jeremy who has such a brilliant smile on his face it’s almost distracting.

The shocked flush on Jean’s face steals the spotlight, though. “You…?”

Kevin says something in confused French, that makes Jean’s flush deepen, but before Seth can turn to snap anything at the tone, Jean has dropped his racket. The sudden bald happiness on his face is clearly something of a shock to Kevin’s system, sends him stepping back into Neil’s shoulder who doesn’t move away from him, Wymack would bet strokes his back subtly, too. Allison takes his hand with no subtlety.

Jean says something in quiet French that sounds so tender with shock that Wymack is nearly glad he can’t understand it.

“You know I don’t know what you’re saying,” Seth says, annoyed, but all the reflexive, defensive anger in his face has drained. He moves to pick up Jean’s racket just to give himself a reason to look away from the awe in Jean’s eyes, but as soon as he leans over, Jean is in the way.

The hug is stilted; surprised even on Jean’s part, like he didn’t even mean to initiate it. But there he is, his arms coming up around Seth’s waist as he says something else.

“I don’t know what that _means_ , J,” Seth insists, skin _just_ a shade light enough that everyone can see the red slowly creep up his ears. He tries to look distant and fails horribly as he closes his arms around Jean’s shoulders.

“I know,” Jean replies and tips his face into Seth’s neck.

Wymack moves and the others get the hint and make themselves scarce, a respectable distance away.

When Jean finally pulls back to draw a full breath, the others are huddled in their own conversations. Wymack glances over, just to be sure they’re ok. Jean catches his eye and offers him a weak smile, so he nods, turning back to Jeremy and the Trojan’s coach.

The former looking delighted, the latter looking perplexed.

Wymack keeps the conversation on the game.

*

“ _You two have been Small together? You’ve **really** let him see that?_” Kevin asked.

“ _Yes. I think… I think I actually mean something to him,_ ” Jean replied, staring up at Seth.

“You know I don’t know what you’re saying,” Seth said, not outwardly amused in a way anyone would recognize, but Jean saw it, Jean _knew._

“ _I’m saying I think we’re really, really friends,_ ” Jean said and the thought made his throat ache.

“I don’t know what that means, J,” Seth said, sounding annoyed, but Jean could recognize he wasn’t really angry and it felt important that he recognized that. He had a friend and could tell when he wasn’t genuinely angry, even when he sounded like it. He had a friend who cared about him and came to see him just because he wanted to. He had a friend who touched him without hurting him first, who _hugged_ him. Seth and Jean are _friends._

Jean isn’t always sure he knows what it means to be friends with someone, but in this new life of his, he thinks he’s learning.

“I know,” Jean had choked out, but then hid his face, because his eyes were damp.

That was a mistake, though, because Seth letting him do that, Seth’s hand settling warmly on his back and just holding him nearly brought him to active tears.

Jean has _friends_.


	14. About Little Foxes: Kevin (and Jean) and Seth

Jean and Kevin are still sort of dancing around each other even once Jean has settled into being a little.

“ _You look well,_ ” and “ _So do you,_ ” they say softly in French without looking at each other, because there is something unsettling about this.

They’d thought of each other as friends, once, but that’d been when they were The Thing and The Pet, just lucky to have someone who knew what it was to not be human. Someone they knew didn’t really want to hurt them, even when they were forced to.

The therapist Jean sees at USC had called it “ _crisis bonding_ ” and Jean hadn’t had to ask what it meant.

It means, now, breathing free air, they don’t know what to do with one another.

“ _It’s good, right?_ ” Kevin continues haltingly, “ _Wym—… Dad’s good to you?_ ”

Jean feels himself heat, but nods. “ _Yes, your—_ ” he starts to say, then drops the pronoun when it feels like an insult. He is Kevin’s father, yes, first and always, but— “ _Yes, Papa is good to me._ ”

Kevin’s eyes are wide when he looks at him this time, the distant politeness swept away with relieved shock. “ _Yes?_ ” he says, he sounds tiny and Jean swallows, feeling quite small, too.

“ _Yes._ ”

He’s never once felt like a Thing with Wymack.

A child, sometimes, but never anything less.

*

Kevin has never been especially kind to Seth.

Granted, it wasn’t like Seth exactly inspired that sort of thing before, but even if he had, Kevin wasn’t known for _kindness._ Things are different now, though, they’re both different.

When Kevin is having lunch with Neil—on the lawn, because his life is _weird_ now—and spots Seth striding out of the student center, he doesn’t feel the usual impulse to actively ignore him. In fact, he’s happy to see him, because he hasn’t really seen much of him yet. He’s known he comes around to see Wymack, to see some of the others, but until now, the idea of a sober, bright-eyed, reasonably-more-pleasant Seth was just a cryptid.

Well, someone call NatGeo, Kevin’s got a report to make.

They chat and it’s—it’s nice, is the thing.

Kevin’s concept of happiness, if he even had one before, isn’t solely based on exy anymore. (Even if it is still mostly exy based, he’s not deconstructing his _whole_ personality). He’s come to let himself enjoy more things between games and training—reading more books, playing board games, hanging out with his teammates, his _family_. _Coloring and watching cartoons_ , his mind supplies with a flutter of pleased embarrassment. Those things don’t feel like they should be completely removed from Seth, even if he doesn’t know how to include him. Neil is obviously amused by their disjointed attempts to talk to each other civilly—not for lack of desire or trying, it’s just…new.

But Seth is important to Kevin’s best friend, so that means he’s got to at least try.

Even so, it’s only when Seth is about to walk away that he finally works up the nerve to ask what’s been on his mind. Kevin knows Wymack is trying to get Seth back on the team in a real way, for which… Kevin is glad, but also…

“Do you want to train with me?” he asks without looking up from the remnants of his lunch.

In the silence that follows—Neil and Seth staring at him in flat shock—Kevin feels his face getting steadily redder as he pretends to focus on getting the very last, tiny pieces of his salad off his plate.

“Seriously?” Seth asks, and it is just asking. None of the scathing sarcasm that might’ve colored it before—just disbelief.

Kevin glances at him. “Yeah. I,” he clears his throat. “I think you could be—” _Good_ , is what he was thinking, but Seth might take that the wrong way. Kevin thinks he could be _better,_ because he actually wants to now, but “I want to… I don’t want to fight anymore,” he confesses, in a smaller voice than he really means to.

*

Here is the thing: Seth has never thought about Kevin being kind either.

He knows Kevin didn’t care about him at all before, probably hardly thought about the fact that he wasn’t going to be there anymore. It’s weird, _jarring_ even to think about a version of Kevin that actually _cares_ about people, but…not more jarring than the idea of a version of Kevin who’s a little, to be fair.

Still, it leaves him at a loss for words, the idea that _he_ could be someone Kevin is invested in, in _any way_. Let alone enough that Seth’s behavior matters to him one way or another, because it clearly does—Seth takes too long to answer.

Kevin starts backpedaling, visibly embarrassed and annoyed at himself. “But Neil knows all the drills by this point, too, so you don’t have—”

“You guys practice together anyway, right?” Seth saves him, shrugging. “Sure, I could come by after work sometimes, if that’s cool?”

Judging by the way their faces light up—and isn’t _that_ a new and wonderful feeling—it’s more than cool.

Training with them is a lot harder than training with Matt or Allison, but there’s something good about that, too. He’s brilliantly alive and tired the whole way through. Seth fucks up the drills a lot, but by the end of the first session, he has a general idea of what to do to get better. He doesn’t _completely_ suck, are Neil’s exact words; he catches the ball Seth snaps at him for that with a smirk and almost no effort.

“Whatever, asshole,” Seth says, shoving Neil lightly on his way to the bench. It doesn’t do more than make him laugh, swaying back to fall into step at his side.

Andrew tosses him a water bottle when he gets close and, after a slight pause, throws one to Seth, too.

“…Thanks,” Seth says belatedly. He doesn’t get a response, but didn’t really expect one.

Kevin has yet to stop critiquing his form. Not viciously—thankfully enough, because Seth’s temper isn’t _gone_ —but annoyingly thoroughly given that it’s the middle of the night after their first session together, for fucks’ sake.

“ _Ok_ , _Coachette_ ,” Seth shoots finally, chucking his empty water bottle in the trash. “I’m listening, but I’m sure as hell not going to remember all twenty fucking things you just suggested in _one night_.” That old, familiar itching for Kevin to escalate them to a fight leaves him waiting for Kevin’s mouth to curl into a sneer, to make some comment about being _worth something_ to the team, to _anyone_. He doesn’t want to chase that rabbit. “I’m gonna—You got me, okay? If…” he motions around, “If they let me back on this court, you got me.”

Kevin doesn’t smile, but for a shining second, his face lights up. “They will. Dad—Coach—” He stops, like he isn’t sure which fits here, is still trying to figure out where he and Seth fit together. He clears his throat. “Dad promised he’d try.”

It’s not something said lightly, not even something said naively.

“Yeah…” Seth swallows, nods. He can’t quite make himself look at any of them as he heads for the locker room. “Starting to think that means something.”

There isn’t much to say after that. They all pass their shower routine in comfortable silence. At least until they’re all getting ready to leave and Neil’s face goes blank, something Seth is beginning to understand as his general response to being concerned in public. “Kev?”

Seth turns just in time to see Kevin shift in a way Seth recognizes, has felt through his own body. The half-step shuffle between deciding to bravely square your shoulders and to slump into being someone little and vulnerable. It never even occurred to Seth when trying to think of Kevin as a little that it wouldn’t be… _silly_. Seth is still trying to get over feeling like he looks _stupid_ pretending, but if he looks even remotely like Kevin does right now, he gets how Coach could see him as a toddler…see the toddler _in_ him. To see that Kevin can look as young and uncertain as he does in that moment reminds Seth: he’s a big brother. And trying to be a good one, now.

“Everything ok, kid?” Seth asks absently, focusing needlessly adjusting the gear in his gym bag. It knocks Kevin down that last notch and he takes a step closer to Andrew, half behind his shoulder.

Seth doesn’t want him to be afraid, but is oddly proud of him for speaking anyway.

“They, um,” Kevin clears his throat, lowers his voice, “They call me Princess.”

…There is, of course, the mild urge to laugh, but it’s so mild Seth doesn’t have any trouble ignoring it. Kevin _is_ a little princess about somethings, an outright _drama queen_ about others. But the queen standing proudly on his cheek is an act of defiance against the man who abused him; the title Princess has been _earned_ and damn well deserves to be treated kindly.

Kevin isn’t looking at him, but Seth doesn’t want his little brothers to be afraid of him.

“Sounds about right,” Seth scoffs, petting Kevin’s shoulder. “Anyone laughing at it?”

“N—no?”

“Good,” Seth steps back, shrugs. “Then we all square, Princess?”

There’s a faint shine in Kevin’s eye that neither of them acknowledge when he nods, awkwardly petting Seth shoulder back. “Yeah.”

Snorting, Seth turns to Neil. “What about you? You the court Jester?”

Neil flips him off.

“I feel like that breaks the swear jar rule.”

“Fuck you.”

“That _definitely_ breaks the swear jar.”

It was a pretty damn good night, Seth later tells Gatorade the Alligator.

Maybe even the beginning of a pattern.


	15. Parent-Teacher Conferences

Betsy doesn’t look disappointed or concerned, but Wymack can’t quite judge the look on her face well enough to be comfortable with it.

Things are going to be changing soon. For the better, but still, periods of change are known to toss things up in the air for foxes. Seth is coming back to the team, Wymack is banking on that even if the ink hasn’t been _laid_ let alone dried yet. That means almost all of his kids are going to be together again, spend most of their time together. He wants them all—he wants all his _little ones_ to be together, too, but… It feels like asking a hell of a lot given what they’ve already given him. There’s a flicker of doubt within himself; whether or not he wants this for their benefit or his, and he tells Betsy as much.

“…Well.” It’s all he gets from her for a second, as she turns something over in her head. “Keeping them separated from the others is not _wrong_ ,” she says, but the way she says ‘wrong’ implies there’s a ‘but’ about to follow. “Seth isn’t a fox in the same way right now, wasn’t ever a factor in their little space. Jean isn’t a fox at all.”

“So your saying keeping them on the down low isn’t damaging them?” Wymack asks bluntly.

“I’m saying throwing them in the deep end when they’re barely learning how to swim seems crueler than keeping them in a kiddy pool,” Betsy corrects, gives him a look when he opens his mouth to comment on that analogy. He keeps quiet and she continues. “The others aren’t _older_ than them as littles, I imagine, but they are more… _familiar_ as littles, with you as their caregiver.”

Wymack can understand that. His foxes were already a family, a solidified unit, but they are forming new bonds that aren’t based on antagonism.

“But you know that,” Betsy continues. “It’s the same reason you paired Seth and Jean even though they were basically strangers. To give them a chance to be the…” she smiles, “the littlest littles on their own, to get their footing.”

Setting his chin in his hand, Wymack half covers his mouth, in no way masking the dry tone of his voice. “Are you going to tell me to trust my gut?”

Betsy doesn’t smile like he expects her to. “Is that what you’re afraid of?”

That statement doesn’t scare him, but it does make the knot of worry in his chest harder to ignore. He hadn’t said he was scared, but… Ok, ok, stop. He rubs a hand over his face. He’s a new parent and he’s allowed to be afraid of hurting his kids without meaning to; they’re little and relying on him, he has to be careful. Sometimes. When it counts. When does it count?

“I push them a lot. On the court, in their regular lives,” Wymack defends. “This is supposed to be…” He almost says _easy_ , but it’s not quite right, feels off before he even lets it out. Letting themselves trust and love and have this one little nice thing has never been an easy endeavor for any of them. “Being little at all took one hell of a leap of faith already.”

“Yes, it did. But you _caught_ them, David,” Betsy says softly, “They’ve never hit the ground with you.” She waits patiently when he has to look away, clear his throat. She reaches to take his hand and he lets her, breathes slowly as she speaks. “You have handled them so very kindly in this and that has made all the difference. I’ve seen it change them, _they’ve_ seen it change things. Yes, there will be fumbles and they’ll need to see that, see that you’ll still stick with them out the other side.”

Wymack swallows, nods, because he will. This wasn’t an experiment, it was a promise.

Betsy sits back. “And as always, they’re old enough to look out for themselves on some level. Let’s keep that in perspective, too, ok?”

“I’ll talk to them,” Wymack agrees.

“You have a meeting first,” Betsy says, patting his hand before standing. Wymack stares after her in confusion as she goes to her desk.

“I’m not so busy I need a secretary,” Wymack says, though that might not be entirely true if he’s forgotten a meeting. “And I’d probably hire someone less overqualified and busy.”

Betsy laughs. “No, it’s not scheduled, but I know you’re going to call it.” Her face is lit up with joy when she turns back to him, manila folder in hand. “Call it a psychologist’s intuition.”

There’s no chance there’s a prank in it, there’s only one thing that could have her that excited. “Are you shitting me?” he says, before he even opens it, hurriedly reading the cover page.

“Not even remotely,” Betsy replies. “It’s my recommendation that so long as he keeps up his additional appointments with me, Seth is fit to rejoin the team. I sent the official forms this morning”

“What’s your stance on hugging?”

Betsy laughs, bright and lively, “David, surely we’re past the point of asking that?”

Wymack has the best coworkers.

*

The Board does a lot of back and forth arguing amongst themselves.

Wymack does a lot of counting backwards from one hundred holding his tongue, feeling a little feral. He doesn’t like the idea of outsiders— _what a thought_ —discussing his kids—sorry, his _team_ like he doesn’t know what’s best with them. He’s not stupid; he knows his objectivity flew the coop months ago and he’s struggling to make it seem like this isn’t _wildly_ personal for him.

Still, Wymack has to interrupt after a while, after some suit makes a comment that sounds so close to calling Seth a waste it takes all of Wymack’s self-control to bite back a ‘ _fuck you_ ’ when he stands. Neither Betsy nor Abby stop him, subtly or otherwise, so he figures he’s proved he can control himself long enough to give his piece.

It’s not complex. Yeah, his team is a goddamn mess, his team is always going to be rocky; that’s the whole point.

“This team is for players who have had their opportunities in life whittled down to almost nothing, who’ve had so much stolen from them they were practically hemorrhaging all over my goddamn court when they got here,” Wymack says, maybe a little to intensely, maybe a little too emotionally, but this is _his team._ “And yeah, it’s been hard as hell to keep this train on the tracks. Anyone who qualifies for my team is gonna be messed up inside, so yeah, they’re gonna fuck up, they’re gonna sabotage themselves and fight me, themselves, and everyone in swinging distance. I’ve caught those blows, I know what I’m looking at.”

“And what is that?”

Wymack picks up the stacks of paper, his own copies in the case he’s making, paving the way to get Seth a chance to defend himself. “Seth Gordon fucked up in a big way, I’m not stupid and neither is he, he _knows_ that. And still, after all of it, he came back. He walked on his own two feet right up to my door to prove that he was clean and getting his shit together. He didn’t ask for the scholarship back, he knows what you would have to say about it because it’s what he thought I would say.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t, I told him if he would work for it, I’d do exactly what I’m doing right now,” Wymack replies. “And Gordon’s been working _damn_ hard. We’ve—” he motions to Betsy and Abby “—all seen it, the _team_ has seen it. He’s gonna have to fight his addiction a day at a time, but he _is_ fighting it now, for the first time, he’s fighting for himself _._ And hell, if he’s not willing to give up on himself, I’m damn sure not giving up on him either.” He laughs, an exasperated, faintly choked sound. “What the _hell_ kinda hypocrite would that make me, huh?”

In the silence that follows, Wymack finds his ears ringing slightly, keeps his hands on the table so he doesn’t fold his arms defensively. There are some glances passed back and forth, a few sighs that irritate Wymack more than he lets his face show. This is so close to home now, there’s some part of him that recognizes this is a _terrible_ thing. Most of him thinks it just _is_ ; this is his life and he wouldn’t trade these feelings—or the people that cause them—for anything.

Wymack just wants his son home.

“Well,” the Director says, making a note before closing the folder in front of him. He looks up at the others, before giving an exasperated chuckle. “David Wymack, you’re one hell of a guy.” He raises his eyebrows, “And rock bottom is a hell of a solid foundation, ain’t it? Let us talk to the kid you claim is climbing up off it.”

Hope starts climbing the inside of Wymack’s ribs.

*

Seth has to brave the Powers That Be on his own.

Though Wymack doesn’t get to be the one to tell him the results, he does text him from his office when Seth should be on his way in. _> Let me know when you’re out, I’ll come get you._

Seth replies: _> Right. Here goes nothing._

Wymack thinks he can feel the forced dismissiveness in that through the phone. _> You’ve got this. Just breathe and be honest._

He doesn’t get anything back, so he goes to practice.

They run their drills well, they always do, but they can tell he’s distracted. Even as he yells the same threats as always and offers corrections, they keep cutting glances at him that make him think they know something is up. He must be getting soft in his old age or something, he thinks as he orders them through their reps; he used to be good at poker.

Everybody realizes _why_ he’s off when the stadium door crashes open.

Seth comes barging in and for a second, Wymack can’t tell what’s happened. There’s a wild look on his face that could mean literally _anything_ and even from across the room, Wymack can tell he’s out of breath, like he ran the whole way here. Everything stops all at once as Seth looks them over, progressively more excited until his gaze lands on Wymack, face all lit up like it’s Christmas.

Wymack is grinning before he even realizes it. “Well, goddamn,” he says under his breath.

Matt’s face is breaking into a smile, too. “Yeah!?”

“I’m—” Seth is out of breath, and maybe even about to laugh so uproariously he starts crying. He throws his arms out, “ _I’m a fucking Fox!_ ”

The team goes _nuts_.

Seth and Matt collide first, a rough hug that rocks them both as they laugh at each other joyously before Allison jumps in. The others are a little less prone to straight up _jump on_ Seth—at least for the time being—but they’re around, smiling and screaming, asking questions faster than Seth can answer them. When Wymack comes over, the line between Seth laughing and Seth crying thins some.

“You—you promised,” Seth coughs out.

“And you did what you had to do,” Wymack replies, so proud he could just bust. He holds his hand out, “Welcome back, Gordon.”

The fact that Seth doesn’t even reach for his hand, goes straight in for a hug gets caught in Wymack’s throat. He feels so much more solid in his arms than he had a few months ago, and Wymack _knows_ he’s much more stable inside, too. He holds on tight and pats his back as the other Foxes whoop around them.

“I’m gonna make you proud,” Seth promises quietly.

“I know, kid,” Wymack replies. “You already have.”


	16. Don’t Forget to Call Your Dad

Jean gets busy—such is the life of a collegiate exy player, right?

Things are hectic for the usual reasons at first, until the investigation into The Nest takes flight and suddenly, Jean can’t turn on the TV without bracing for it. Nobody is fool enough to ask him to talk about it, aside from the therapist paid to absorb the result. For once he appreciates his teammate’s ability to go on and on about anything under the sun without setting a verbal foot near Edgar Allen. Jeremy is still the most patient ray of sunshine to ever touch the earth and Jean is embarrassingly grateful to come home to his Jer Bear on a regular basis. Calling Wymack every few days is also heart-filling in a way that makes Jean feel like he’s on an even keel. Even if the whispers about calling him as a witness make his vision grey around the edges.

One day that is threading the line between tolerable and _bad_ , Jean comes in to find a package on the table. That pings his anxiety until he sees the address of Fox Tower and his mood brightens considerably, even if he’s confused. Opening the box, he finds a little sandwich baggie full of stars and a post-it note written in Seth’s scrawl: _It’s from Pop, but he thought it might be sketch to sign it himself. These are yours, too. – S_.

Jean can understand Wymack’s perspective, he supposes, but is still bubbly-glad to have gotten a package from them anyway. He carefully sticks Seth’s note to his desk, sitting the bag of stars with it to be added to the jam jar he’s got the rest of them in. The number slowly creeps up from the initial twenty-two every time they meet, even if Seth won’t always say what for. When he pulls off the cardboard topper in the box, he’s immediately hit with the smell of Wymack’s apartment. It gives him an unexpected bit of tunnel vision when his hands brush against something soft, pulling it out to find a throw blanket covered in happy cartoon cows. It’s so soft and cute and it makes him _happy_ and it smells like _his Papa_ , he must have washed it and, oh, why is—

“Jean?”

Jean turns to find Jeremy staring at him worriedly and realizes he’s crying. “I—” He starts to speak, but before he can finish whatever he was going to say, he starts sobbing, clutching the blanket to his chest. “Jer?”

“Oh, sweetie, oh, oh, come here,” Jeremy says, but gets up himself to pull Jean into a hug. “I got you, it’s ok.”

It feels so stupid to be crying over a blanket, but Jean is not at a point, can’t _imagine_ a point in his life where he will understand people doing nice things for him for no reason other than to be _nice._ Wymack knows times are rough right now and knows he likes cows; he was just doing something to make his—his _little_ feel better when they can’t be together. It’s the kind of sweet Jean doesn’t know what to do with, hurts in such a loving way it leaks out his eyes. “I love it,” he tells Jeremy. ‘It’ being the blanket, and what he has with Wymack, and Seth and the foxes and _Jeremy_.

Jeremy rocks him, cooing softly. “It’s very nice, isn’t it? So many happy cows, all for my little jelly bean.” It’s a stupid nickname, but Jeremy has cycled through so many silly names for Jean, that Jean has given up fighting the way it makes him feel little and sweet. He sniffs and wipes his cheeks, looking down at it again when Jeremy gently brushes his hair back.

“Why don’t we call your daddy and tell him?”

Jean’s face still pinches a little, but with flustered embarrassment, not disgust. “It’s not—”

“ _Jean,_ ” Jeremy cuts in, holding his shoulders and speaking gently. “Unless you tell me no, we’re going to call Coach Wymack, ok? I think you should talk to him. _See_ him, even. Do you have Skype?”

 Scrubbing at his eye, Jean just shakes his head.

“Do you want to use mine? I’ll help you call him.”

Jean nods and Jeremy pulls out his laptop.

*

Wymack almost never gets Skype calls.

It starts up automatically when he boots up his computer mostly because he’s never bothered to go into the settings and make it…not do that, but he rarely uses it. Teleconferences and interviews, occasionally, but really he could do without it. When he gets a message from Renee asking for his user name, he doesn’t bat an eye before giving it to her. He expects her to call, but when the call sound plays a few minutes later, it’s from a JKNOX46; not an unwelcome surprise.

“Can you hear me, Knox?” Wymack says when Jeremy comes on screen.

“ _Loud and clear, Coach. It’s good to see you!_ ” He sounds completely genuine and Wymack can’t help but laugh slightly at that.

“Likewise. Everything ok with my kid?”

Jeremy smiles brilliantly. “ _Things are great! I love babysitting Jean, anytime he needs it. He just got a little worked up about—_ ” His eyes dart off screen and he tuts, “ _Don’t be embarrassed, it’s ok, baby._ ” He looks back to the camera, “ _Can you talk to him for a little while?_ ”

“Of course,” Wymack says setting aside the papers he’d been working on. The laptop swings around until it’s presumably sitting on Jean’s desk, pointed at where Jean is sitting curled up on the end of the bed, his new blanket tight around his shoulders and eyes a little puffy. He’s also holding a…jar? “Hey, sweetheart.”

“ _Hi,_ ” Jean says faintly. He glances up a second before Jeremy leans back into frame.

“ _I’ll let you two talk, ok?_ ” Jeremy says, kissing the top of Jean’s head before he leaves the room. “ _Bye, Coach!_ ”

“Bye, kiddo,” Wymack says, because that sounds friendly enough to not make him a little, he figures. He refocuses on Jean, “I see you got our package.”

Jean nods, tucks the end of the blanket over his mouth when his lip starts to wobble. “ _I really like it._ ”

Wymack smiles sympathetically at him. “Was it too much?”

“ _No,_ ” Jean says hastily, like Wymack might try to take it back through the internet. “ _No, I just… I wasn’t expecting… It’s so **nice**_ , _the blanket and…_ ” When he looks down at his own hands, he moves the little jar he’s clutching enough for Wymack to see that it’s half-full of Seth’s paper stars.

“He made you more?” Wymack asks.

Jean colors, holds the jar a little closer to his chest. “ _Yes,_ ” he says, “ _Different promises, apparently._ ”

Wymack smirks. “He wouldn’t tell you for what?” He chuckles when Jean just glares at him, but quiets when Jean sobers. “J?”

The blanket comes back up over his mouth. “ _It’s stupid,_ ” he spits.

“Little kids say some dumb stuff when they’re working the world out,” Wymack says and some of the tension leaves Jean’s shoulders, even as he gives him a sour look. “What’s going on?”

For a moment, Wymack thinks the connection failed, Jean is so still and quiet. Then he looks up at him, breathing unsteadily and flush. “ _…Papa?_ ” Jean tries out jerkily.

The word lands heavy and warm in Wymack’s chest, but he accepts it easily, cherishes the feeling. He swallows past the tightness in his throat. “Yeah?”

“ _I’m scared._ ”

“Of what, kid?”

“ _That I believe you?_ ” Jean answers, voice shaky and high. “ _Both of you? That Seth doesn’t want to hurt me and even his secret promises are good. That you—you—_ ” He looks baffled and hopeful, “ _Papa, you **answered** me._”

Wymack takes a breath and lets a tiny smile cross his face. “I answered you because you were talking to me, weren’t you?” he says. It’s an entirely genuine answer, but with the touch of sarcasm his family has come to expect from one another. “Like you said, I can’t hug you better, but I _can_ be there for you. I’m gonna care about you, no matter how far away you are, no matter what happens or what you decide to call me. If you want to call me Coach or Wymack, that’s fine, that’s who I am. But hell, kid, I am _more_ than ok with being called Papa,” He has to laugh a little, has to be honest, “It actually makes me really happy.”

Jean looks surprised. “ _It does?_ ”

“Yeah,” Wymack answers easily, “I like that the word means something good between me and you.” He wishes he could hug him for the sweet way Jean’s eyes flicker away like he’s embarrassed. “I hope one day it doesn’t scare you to believe that we care about you, because it’s true. We care, there’s no gimmick. You don’t have to do anything to _earn_ that, we just care, ok?”

Jean pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “ _Thank you, Papa._ ”

They talk for a little longer, then Jean calls Jeremy back in and Wymack gets to watch firsthand how Jean flounders under his unrelenting sweetness. He can’t even properly be mean to him like he can to Seth. He just folds and tries to hide his face in Jeremy’s shirt, begging him to stop with the pet names as Wymack laughs joyously right along with Jeremy.


	17. All Together Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember friends! Time is not real ~~because the author can’t be bothered to keep track of it~~!

It’s awkward, a little, because it can’t _not_ be, but it’s not as bad as Wymack had been braced for.

After several conversations, both individually and as small groups, they’ve decided they want to have a little night with the whole family together finally. Most of them don’t actually care _when_ this happens, but Wymack figures with the break coming up, now is as good a time as any. The weekend after finals, the last weekend some of his kids are going to be on campus before heading home to see their blood relatives, is when they finally collide. Seth takes off work (he’s working the holiday, fuck his boss, they can do without him for a few days) and Jean flies into town (after Jeremy fawns over him, sends him off with hugs and kisses, invites him to _his_ family’s Christmas if he wants to come around after) to be with them.

Seth picking up Jean from the airport means they come in together, finding Kevin already in his onesie, seated on the floor with Aaron. Kevin looks wide eyed and vaguely scared, Aaron shifting closer to him instantly, but nobody laughs.

“ _Bonjour,_ ” Jean says, somewhat awed at seeing Kevin in such a state, his own hand fisted in Seth’s hoodie.

“ _Allô_ ,” Kevin replies just as softly.

“How do you say ‘ _princess’_ in French?” Seth asks, defusing some of the tension in the room. Jean looks like he wants to snap at him for teasing, but Kevin answers softly, wincing and smiling when Seth tries to pronounce it. “What! I don’t speak French.”

“Clearly,” Wymack teases, but comes over to hug them, ignoring Seth’s sneer. “Hey kiddos, it’s good to see you.”

Seth goes off to get changed, taking Jean along with him when Wymack confirms Jeremy has packed a bag for him. By the time they come back out—Jean still standing half behind Seth, but now clutching Cheche, too—Matt and the girls have showed up. Renee’s whole demeanor lights up when she spots him. “Jean!”

Jean’s face eases and shifts sheepishly. “Renee,” he replies. When she holds out her hand, he cuts a glance at Seth who looks surprised to even be considered. “Go ahe— _woah!_ ” He stumbles some when Matt comes crashing in to hug him.

“You’re here!” Matt says, excitedly.

“No kidding!” Seth says, but also doesn’t shove him off. “You trying to knock me out??”

Jean rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t look all that bothered. He’s still looking shy as he lets go of Seth’s clothes to take Renee’s hand, like he’s not quite ready to be on his own yet. Jean slots himself easily between Renee and Kevin, smiling lightly when Renee leans against him and asks if he wants to color with her.

That’s all it takes, really.

Nicky comes in with Andrew and Neil’s hands in his, bouncing excitedly and talking fast as he changes. It’s so much like Christmas, Wymack half wishes he’d brought presents. All his kids in one room is a hell of a riot, but it’s also got him so full of love he can’t get the smile off his face.

Andrew goes to sit with Renee, which seems to confuse Jean, but they form some sort of tentative bond over their mutual love of—over watching Renee draw. Seth and Kevin make a pair Wymack hadn’t excepted, but they seem…well, sweet together. Kevin is not used to being teased and Seth is not used to being cutesy in his teasing, but it works. Matt and Seth, of course, make Kevin watch _Dexter’s Laboratory_ with them and before long, Neil crawls over to join them.

“I got your pictures,” Neil blurts out, flushing when Seth turns to him. “And I kept them, I—I like them.”

The shyness on Seth’s face is as unusual as it is endearing. Still, he reaches over to fluff Neil’s hair. “Thanks, lil bro.”

The hesitant smile that breaks over his face makes Wymack feel like they’re going to get close. Matt is always going to be Neil’s favorite, but Seth… Seth’s growing up to be a good brother, too.

Wymack gets bumped between everyone, passing from activity to activity and back again as they shuffle amongst themselves. He collects pizza orders because it’s a special occasion, and puts up with all the good natured arguing he faces. He gets up from where Jean has moved over to look through a find-it with Seth and Aaron, doing a casual perusal of the room until he finds Allison standing alone, bouncing on her feet, looking confused.

“Alli?” Wymack says quiet enough that only she hears him. Allison turns to him, blinking back to herself, before trotting over to his side. “What’s going on, hon?”

Allison doesn’t answer for a moment, but when she does it’s still faintly confused. “I miss him, but I’m glad he’s not the same anymore. I think… It’s good he’s got a friend like J _,_ ” she whispers, but the way her voice trips around ‘friend’ clues him into the complicated look on her face.

Wymack cuts a glance over at Seth, finding Jean tucked comfortably against his side even as they snip at each other. He’s never thought about them like Allison clearly has, but he can’t say he couldn’t imagine it going there. For now, he pushes the thought aside, pulling his baby girl into his arms. “It’s not bad that you still love him. I think that’s actually very good, even if it’s not from the same place as before. Maybe even because of that.”

Allison nods, hides her face for a moment.

“Do you need a break?” he asks, rubbing her back.

“Can I just stay with you for a minute?” she asks, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

“Sure.”

But the real kicker is, Allison actually really likes Jean.

Standing up out of Wymack’s arms, she’s back to normal, but there’s also something resolute about her. He doesn’t ask, just kisses her temple and sends her on. She doesn’t go directly for Jean, but still returns to the throng. After dinner, she’s sitting with Kevin, drawing on his face again because, as of yet, he has not tried to stop her, seems to find it therapeutic. Her hands and colors on his skin are not possessive or cruel, they’re just… there; happy to be allowed to touch him, give him a piece of art. Tonight, she leaves him with a flower and Jean comes over to chat when he realizes it’s an iris. After a bit of hesitant waffling, Jean asks and Allison carefully draws a matching flower on his cheek over the 3. He tells her quietly that the only thing he knows how to draw is a heart or a star.

Pulling the chewelry heart out of her onesie to show him, she holds out a pink face crayon. The heart is crooked and smudgy, but they stand side by side in the bathroom, looking at themselves. Jean shocked and Allison tickled.

“I like it,” Allison says, rocking back and forth, then knocks their shoulders together. “I think I like you.” She says it plainly, easily because she’s little and there’s no reason it should be a secret. Well, not to him at least.

Jean blinks at her before giving her a shy smile that makes her heart twist in her chest. “I think I like you, too,” he says, because it’s true.

Things wind down with a movie, as they are wont to do on nights like this.

Wymack is a little—ok, actually, honestly, _a lot_ shocked when Seth and Nicky start singing together; an astoundingly well done rendition of “ _You’ve Got a Friend in Me_ ” that leaves the others cheering. Nicky wraps his arms around Seth’s neck and shakes him giddily, Seth returning the hug loosely even as he looks increasingly sheepish. They don’t even expressly move apart after, just slumped casually against each other’s sides—Nicky staring with obvious wonder, Seth pretending not to notice as he listens to Dan talk about her teddy bear.

Eventually, of course, bed time creeps around. “Alright, kiddos,” Wymack says, stretching with one arm, rubbing Kevin’s back with the other. “It’s getting late. Are we all staying here or does anyone need alone time?”

They all sort of glance around at each other before answering and, not for the first time, Wymack wonders if the sort of casual telepathy siblings have can be grown instead of being born. Seth speaks up first, “Can we?”

“We’ll all fit, right, dad?” Renee asks sleepily, hanging onto Jean’s sleeve.

It’s glaringly obvious by the way not a single person in the room moved when he asked that none of them are particularly interested in being separated, not tonight. Wymack smiles at her, nodding. “Sure, sweetie.”

The bathroom is a disaster zone, but they’re all too sleepy to make a big stink about taking turns and sharing. With the mats laid out, there’s only a momentary pause to sort out where Seth and Jean fit into this equation. Renee and Allison leave an invitingly obvious space between them, Renee laying shoulder to shoulder with Nicky and Allison tucking around Neil’s back. The latter is a little surprising to see, but Wymack feels a bit of a sting in his eyes when Neil just holds her hand on his tummy and Andrew just looks at her evenly, unbothered by their hands touching in the front of Neil’s onesie. Jean and Seth lay down where they are so obviously welcome.

Wymack moves over to check that the door is locked, turning out lights as he goes. He stands by the hall, looking over his kids fondly as they settle into their blankies and holding their stuffies and each other. Or… settle being relative.

Jean lies so flat and tense Wymack almost asks if he wants to sleep somewhere else. But then Seth finally reaches over for him, grumbling drowsily, “Come the f— _heck on_.”

“ _Up yours_ ,” Jean snaps in French, but also rolls right into Seth’s arms.

“We all good?” Wymack asks, and he’s met with a chorus of sleepy agreement. “Night, kiddos.”

Before he can turn to leave, Wymack hears Seth humming, something low and slow that makes Jean bury further into his chest. Nicky and Dan join in for a moment, sleepily, absently as Wymack turns out the light. They don’t get loud and he doesn’t tell them to be quiet. It’s not even five minutes later when the room falls silent, but for the sound of their breathing.

Still, Wymack goes to bed with the song stuck in his head, the feeling stuck in his heart. He sleeps easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been sort of thinking about Jean and Allison hanging out and being (affectionately, of course) referred to as The Plastics, because they’re So Bitchy when they’re out together, it’s awful and perfect.


	18. About Little Foxes: Seth and Neil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: mentions of a very minor burn and allusion to past burns.
> 
> Also uhhhh… I modified/added in some things to the next (last) three chapters of this part. In an ideal world, I’d have them all done in time for regularly scheduled posting, but… My weekend is so freakin busy dudes I just want to watch cartoons and cry about it, but I’ll settle for thinking about fanfic between meetings.
> 
> Next week’s posts are going to be late, I’m sorry in advance!

Seth is not a cuddler.

The above is a goddamn, filthy lie.

Moving back into the dorms is not as big an ordeal as it could’ve been, the wheels greased by the fact that his roommates had wanted to move anyway and the Foxes had wanted him home. His things—including a big, floppy alligator—fit easily back into the dorm with Aaron and Matt, the latter of whom hugs him as soon as he sets down the box. Aaron socks him in the arm companionably, flushing and giving Seth a sour look when he laughs.

Getting used to the _touching_ should be harder, but it’s _not_ ; it’s all easy in a way that makes him feel squirmy if he thinks about it too hard. So he doesn’t think about it.

When Jean is over, he holds him close and feeds him, doesn’t feel awkward when he’s done and doesn’t move away, just tucks his face against Seth’s neck, his sleeve in his mouth. It still embarrasses him when Wymack finds them like that, sometimes, kisses the tops of their heads, but it’s also just _good,_ all of it. He _enjoys_ Matt and Allison hugging him all the time, Aaron and Kevin bumping his fists or shoulders; he even more-than-just-tolerates Nicky coming _flying_ at him, expecting—correctly—that Seth will savagely curse him out but never fail to catch him. Andrew doesn’t touch him at all, but he doesn’t avoid him anymore, at least looks at him when he speaks. Neil seems like he doesn’t quite know what to do with him, hasn’t figured out what Seth is willing to take, but also can’t make himself move away. Nobody really moves away any more and Seth is getting used to just…being warm.

So when coming back from his advisor leaves him excited, but running a little shaky and cool with nerves, he only hesitates a moment before turning towards The Monster’s Room—something said affectionately now, if only said in the privacy of his own mind. Things are peaceable now and Seth could do with distracting himself watching Aaron grind through a dungeon crawl.

However, that’s not what he walks into when he opens their door, only ever locked when nobody is home or someone doesn’t want company.

Neil is sitting on the floor with a _pacifier_ in his mouth.

At first, Neil looks like he has _no clue_ who Seth is even when he wheels around to look at him. The confusion on his face chills Seth.

“Neil?” Seth calls, and Neil snaps back to reality, now _terrified_ and embarrassed, but Seth’s not having that. “ _Ah-ah_ ,” he says, shutting the door behind him. “It’s just me, you’re all good, kid.” When Neil reaches up to take the pacifier out of his mouth, Seth lowers his voice. “You don’t have to do that just because I’m here.”

Swallowing, Neil just nods, looking shaken and worn out.

Seth isn’t sure if walking up on him would make that worse or not, so he sits down in front of the door. “Are you ok?” It seems like a stupid question, given the look on his face, but he has to ask anyway. Dan said Neil is under express instructions to never say the words ‘ _I’m fine_ ’ ever again, so maybe he’ll get a straight answer.

They stare at each other as Neil figures out how to respond, looking lost the whole time. Eventually, he shakes his head minutely.

“What happened? You know I’ll kick ass for you, right?”

It’s a joke, but not a lie. Still, it doesn’t make Neil smile like Seth had hoped for. Instead, he holds up his hand and Seth notices a little bandage on his finger. His hand shakes a little, but this time he does take his paci out.

“Burn,” Neil says faintly, “It’s not bad. I went to Abby and she fixed it, so I left, but. And.” His breath catches and his eyes dart away, “It wasn’t as bad as—” his hand goes up to his cheek, making Seth’s heart break and blood boil. “But.”

Seth keeps his voice soft, unthreatening. This may be the one and only time Neil appreciates being gentled about his past. “Doesn’t have to be bad to hurt,” he says with a shrug, drawing Neil’s gaze back to his.

“ _But_. But I thought I was ok? I _was_ ok, but now—” Seth’s heart sinks when Neil’s face pinches. He covers his ears and starts crying, flinching like he’s startled by his own tears. “ _Seth, I’m little and it hurts._ ”

Oh _fuck_ , the crying is hard, the crying is so hard because Seth knows what it feels like to have held something back for years only to have it blow up because of one little slight. It hurts because it’s Neil, his little brother; his boogie man is dead and still haunting him. Seth doesn’t know what to do.

“Do you want me to get Mattie for you? Or—or Pop?” Seth tries desperately, but when he goes to get up, Neil looks _scared._ It takes a second to realize it’s because he doesn’t want to get left alone, he wants… “I can stay if you want?” He continues when Neil nods, “Do you want me to touch you?”

Like the words are an invitation, Neil comes crawling across the floor to him and Seth could almost cry, too, his heart wrenches so hard in his chest.

Seth is big enough to just sort of _engulf_ Neil, so he does. Gathered up in his lap and wrapped in his arms, Neil clings to him. Seth shushes him as he cries, makes soothing nonsense noises into Neil’s hair. “I got you,” he says when Neil has quieted. “Nothin’s gonna happen to you while I’m here, ok? You’re all good with me.”

“I know,” Neil gasps and his trust explodes like a lightbulb in Seth’s chest. He pushes Neil’s pacifier back into his mouth, because if he says anything else like that, Seth will get choked up, too. He makes a startled noise when Seth heaves to his feet, taking Neil along with him to the sofa. It’s become one of his favorite pastimes, being laid on, and he doesn’t quite know how he feels about that. Except for when it’s happening, then he just feels warm and… calm.

Neil curls his sore hand against his chest, for a while just resting, still breathing a little thickly from crying. Then he goes stiff, mumbles something around his pacifier.

“What?” Seth says, angling to look down at him. He takes the pacifier when Neil doesn’t move, because those sounded like actual words, not babbling. “What’s up, kid?”

“I said I’m sorry,” Neil says without looking up at him, but even with his head turned down, Seth can read the fear and shame pressed between their bodies. It makes him frown.

“I get it, it hurt. You don’t gotta say sorry for—”

“No, not for this, I…” Neil turns his face so it’s in Seth’s shoulder, voice muffled and shaky. “I shouldn’t have antagonized him.”

Seth freezes, because he knows _exactly_ what Neil is apologizing for now. His stomach rolls _._ “Neil…” The flat tone of his voice makes Neil tense up, but he doesn’t stop, braves on.

“I’m sorry I got you hurt, I know I can’t take back what I did, but you’re being so good to me and I don’t deserve any of it. I’m so, so—”

“You didn’t get me hurt. _No—_ ” Seth says firmly when Neil starts to cut in. The quiet noise of discontent Neil makes when Seth pushes him back some hurts and Seth wants to hug him immediately. Still, he holds him by the arms to get a look at his face. “Hey, _stop._ Look at me?” he adds on softly and Neil’s eyes are pink and wet when he looks up, not hiding any of the fear or guilt there. It hits Seth then that all this time, from the moment Seth left, Neil has been carrying this. Even before he was little and would’ve shown this to anyone, let anyone carry him through it. Neil has been thinking he’d _done this to Seth_.

Swallowing, Seth shakes his head. “We went out that night, even when you said not to.”

Neil shakes his head right back at him. “You didn’t _know._ ”

“Neither did you!” Seth counters, “You didn’t make Ricky do _shit_. Yeah, your smartass mouth was always gonna get you in trouble, but you didn’t involve me, _he_ did because…” The tears stinging Seth’s throat make him angry, but he doesn’t look away. “I was just a warning, right? Even if I had died, nobody gave enough of a shit, so he could use me just to prove he had a big ol’ dick to swing around and—” Neil is suddenly throwing his arms around Seth’s neck, a hug, a _legitimate hug_.

“I care,” Neil whispers and if Seth’s not mistaken, he’s crying again. “I care so much and I should’ve always cared, it wasn’t fair that I didn’t.”

Seth doesn’t know if Neil cared about anyone at that point, honestly. “I wasn’t…” He wraps his arms around his brother and lets himself feel it, feel that he is cared for and wanted and would be missed. It almost hurts to think about, but it’s the good kind of hurt he will never get used to and always be so fucking grateful for. “I didn’t make you want to care,” he says, because it’s true.

Neil doesn’t even say anything to that. “I care now. Seth, you’re my brother, I’d…” There are so many things he’d do for his brothers, Seth knows, because he’d do just as many. He gets that. “I don’t want you hurt ever again.”

In another life, Seth might’ve made a joke. Today, though, he just touches his cheek to the top of Neil’s head. “Thanks. I,” he shrugs a little uncomfortably, unused to saying things so plainly, “I like. That you care. That we’re brothers, I. Feel the same.” Neil nods before relaxing back down into his lap. Seth feeds him the pacifier again. “Now, knock it off before you make me cry.”

They sit there for so long that Neil’s breathing evens out into something like a doze, staying pressed close together thanks to the arm he has tangled in the end of Seth’s hoodie. It doesn’t bother Seth, the faint skin contact, just makes him put his feet up on the couch and just—be there.

At some point, Seth must doze off, too, because the sound of the door clicking open has them both waking up with a spark of panic. Seth’s arms closing protectively around Neil’s shoulders, fully geared up for a fight, before he registers Andrew standing in the doorway.

Seth feels annoyed relief wash over him, sagging back into the sofa. “Jesus _Christ_ , Andrew.”

Andrew just stares at them for a moment, unmoving. He puts his keys down and signs some things to Neil, who answers in nods and head shakes, but he doesn’t drop his pacifier or pull his hand out of Seth’s hoodie to reply more than that. Seth only feels a little left out, what, with all of Neil’s weight and warmth in his lap.

“Drew,” Andrew says eventually.

Seth blinks at him. “Drew?”

“Only here,” Andrew says and turns out of the room.

After watching him go, Seth looks down at Neil, is struck by how sweet he looks. “Am I in trouble?”

Neil does smile then, shaking his head.

Andrew comes back with Matt in tow, who immediately makes a beeline for them. Matt makes for a good fussy old woman and Seth tells him as much, sparking off an argument that apparently has Neil feeling good enough to sit up and shake his head, amused. They sprawl across the floor in front of the sofa, figuring they don’t have any homework assignments pressing enough to get started _immediately_. What’s the point of a TV if they hardly ever use it, right?

“Have you made him watch SpongeBob yet?” Seth asks and Matt gasps like he’s been shot, so Seth figures no, he hasn’t.

They spend the afternoon with Neil between them, Andrew on the sofa behind them—his foot casually pressed against Neil’s shoulder—watching cartoons.

If they’re touching the whole time, well, maybe that’s just the way things are now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I couldn’t stop thinking about:
> 
> Neil: I want my Mattie. :(  
> Seth: Gotchu. *clearing his throat* KRUSTY KRAAAYEEAYEAEEEYAH, YEAAHAYEAHH, YEAH, YEAH PIZZA! IS THE PIZZA, YEAH, FOR YOU AND—  
> Matt: *bursting through a wall* MEEEeeeEEEEEeeEEEEEEEE!!!


	19. Bottle Fed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The break lasted longer than intended, apologies! I honestly had a Rather Bad week and then a week of overtime nonsense at work. I hope yours was better! Or if not, I hope we both have a better one this week! Happy Easter if you celebrated!
> 
> The POV is a little wonky here, I think. Has it been for the whole fic? Hm… Reeegardless, I hope you enjoy. ❤

Wymack has a number of little space websites saved in a text document on his computer.

Some of them he has to tread very lightly because, quality though they are, they have sections that make his skin crawl to think about in relation to his foxes. Mostly, he looks at the ones he’s gotten from Neil, with much less hesitancy about spending money on them.

“And you make fun of me for window shopping,” Abby says one day, leaning over his shoulder as he scrolls through the latest site.

“I make fun of the fact that you have a million things in a half dozen carts,” Wymack corrects, turning to kiss her hello. She spends so much time on _actual_ baby sites that if he didn’t know better, he’d think she had something to tell him. “It’s not window shopping, I’m _actually_ shopping.”

“Oh!” Abby sits down, prying her shoes off as she looks over at the screen. “So you think Jean would use a pacifier?”

Wymack grunts. “He doesn’t always like letting go of his sippy cup when he’s done,” he answers. Generally, he tends to let Seth cover giving Jean juice just as a part of their routine, but the few times Wymack has held Jean, he’s noticed the trend, too. Jean drinks _so slowly_ , Wymack thinks he must be doing it on purpose, to have an excuse not to get up. He’s pretended not to notice, but having a pacifier means nobody would have to disrupt him for long after the juice is gone. “Figure that might help.”

“Has he seen the others’ pacies?” Abby asks, leaning into his side.

“I don’t think so,” Wymack says, because they were all still adjusting at that point. Allison and Aaron both had on their chewelry—Aaron has started using his almost any time he gets anxious—but he doesn’t remember seeing anyone’s pacifiers. Although—“Maybe Rene’s. She wears it a lot even when she doesn’t use it.”

Abby hums. “What about Seth?”

“Can’t really see that,” Wymack shakes his head. “Littlest he gets is teething age.” Though that does raise the point that Wymack could get him a teether. It might save him from grinding his teeth, as he seems like the type to do that. “I was actually looking for bottles.”

“Cute,” Abby allows. “May as well get a set. Even if they don’t want to be fed, they might like using them.”

That’s a fair enough point.

There several more kinds of bottles available for adult babies than Wymack was expecting, but he elects to get the good old-fashioned kind. The nipples may be a little tougher and larger, but the cute little animals marching around the bottle are a classic. As is the pastel purple pacifier with a holding ring on the back that he picks out for Jean. The shark pendant chewelry he picks out for Seth is newfangled, but whatever, the others seem to like it and Wymack likes making his babies happy.

*

The next little night he invites them over to Abby’s house, something that doesn’t exactly scare Seth and Jean, but definitely makes them a little nervous.

“She knows?” Seth exclaims softly, surprised.

“She knew almost from the very start,” Wymack says. “She’d love to meet our newest kiddos, too.” He doesn’t specify what the ‘our’ means, isn’t sure he even knows. Abby has said she is only a tangential caregiver compared to Wymack, but she’s also called herself mommy and loves the kids to death. Either way, Seth gets squirrelly about the phrasing, embarrassed at how happy it makes him. Still, he scowls when Wymack tweaks his cheek. “Yes or no, Seth?” he asks, because he’s learned some things from his kids.

Seth grabs his hand and doesn’t quite let go. He looks at their hands for a long time before shyly raising his eyes. “I’d…like to meet her, as…” he trails off, voice lowering, “when I’m little.” He doesn’t protest Wymack touching his head this time.

“She’d love to meet you, too, sweetheart,” Wymack says, lets Seth hide his face at the endearment.

“ _It’s…really ok?_ ” Jean asks on their weekly call. “ _Last time…_ ”

Last time he was in pieces, half out of his mind with pain and fear. The night he met Abby, he’d been clutching at her, crying and begging not to leave, even to go to the hospital. That’s not the emotion the memory of Abby’s house should inspire; it’s not a dark room and a closed door. Abby had watched him go with concern and well wishes; she would love to welcome him back with warmth and joy.

“Last time was a crisis,” Wymack says, “She wants you back home without that hanging over your head. We all do.”

Jean doesn’t answer for a moment—for long enough that Wymack realizes he said ‘home’ and doesn’t second guess that at all—then admits softly, “ _It_ is _a nice house._ ” Wymack has to laugh at that.

There’s a giddy anticipation thrumming in the air the whole week. Classes officially start next week and Seth’s first game back is coming up, not to mention Abby agreeing to make them all dinner at her place to celebrate the start of the new semester.

“Can we make cookies?” Dan asks her, her chin tucked over her shoulder.

Abby hums, rocking slightly as she tends to do when they hug her. “Of course. Ask daddy to bring icing and stuff, ok?”

Wymack always looks embarrassed when she calls him that, but he never corrects her. If they ever start using it his heart may melt right out of his chest, but he’d never discourage it. His babies calling him anything at all makes him happy. “I got it. Who’s getting J?”

Allison waves, Rene’s fingers laced through her other hand. They’re hoping to make a good time of what will probably be Jean’s last in-person visit for several weeks at least. They’re listening to a children’s station when they pull up to the airport, twisting around to kiss Jean’s cheeks when he climbs in the back. As soon as the door shuts out the traffic sounds, they’re closed in a delightful little bubble of not-quite-little space, but something just as loving. Before they’ve even pulled back onto the street, Jean has dug Cheche out of his bag and re-fluffed his fur, head leaning longingly against the shoulder of Rene’s seat as they chat.

“How’s Jer-Jer?” Rene asks.

“ _Jer-Jer?_ ” Allison asks, brightly. “That’s so freakin’ cute.”

Jean rolls his eyes. “I never should’ve told you about that,” he complains, but still continues, “It’s _Jer-Bear_ and he’s fine, _wonderful._ ” Jean thinks fondly of laying on Jeremy while they watched a movie, waking up with no pain or panic, just Jeremy snoring softly beneath him. He thinks of Jeremy holding his face, kissing his _tattoo_ and thinking even if the haunting never goes away, it can be covered now and again with something as gentle and warm as kisses. “He’s a very good friend and…babysitter.”

“Lucky ducky,” Allison says. “What does he call you?”

Jean doesn’t answer, quickly changing the subject when a well-timed _High School Musical_ song comes on.

*

Seth gets to the house before they make it back and fidgets at the door like he’s nervous about picking up his prom date. He nearly jumps when Abby answers, but he feels a fluttering rush of happiness when she immediately looks delighted to see him.

“Hi Seth!” Abby exclaims, stepping aside to let him in. She looks so _soft_. Standing there in her PJs with her hair pulled back and this big sweet smile on her face just from seeing Seth. “Now, I’ve heard rumors, but I’m wondering how you feel about hugs?”

“I like hugs,” Seth admits. His mouth twists in an embarrassed smile when she goes up on her tiptoes to get her arms around him.

“I’m so glad you came, sweetheart,” she tells him softly, earnestly. “I’m glad you’re _back._ ”

It’s weird being so much bigger than her and being made to feel so small at the same time. He hunches down to hide his face in her shoulder, getting a breath full of her lotion and detergent that makes his eyes sting with—love? It sure feels like it could be, the place where something always wanted meets something readily given. “Thanks, Abby.”

Abby hums. “Are you ready to jump in or do you need a minute?” Seth doesn’t answer right away, because he isn’t sure, but she doesn’t rush him. When he manages to stand up, she smiles at him and kisses his cheek. “Come on, you can change in the bedroom.”

Seth easily folds into the fray these days, Wymack hugging him warmly before Nicky and Matt jump on him like they haven’t seen him in years. There are coloring pages spread out all over the floor and Seth sits down beside Neil to join in. Aaron and Andrew are feeling very young tonight, holding hands, the latter with a pacifier tucked into his mouth and Neil doing most of the talking. Seth still says hi with a wave that Aaron nods at and… Andrew doesn’t return it in a way Seth would’ve recognized before. Now, though, Seth notices he doesn’t seem quite as stone-still as he might’ve before. He knows he’s at least partly on track because when he hesitantly says “…Kitty kisses?” Andrew goes pink and Aaron’s chewelry falls out of his mouth on a laugh.

Nicky is _squealing_ as Dan tugs his shirt, all excited. “Is that what it is!” she asks, but then spots Neil’s smile, “ _It is!!_ ”

“No throwing,” Wymack says as soon as Andrew makes a grab for the pile of crayons. The look Andrew shoots him isn’t quite venomous enough to be a glare, possibly even edges into the territory of pouty.

Seth just smiles down at the _Transformers_ coloring sheet Kevin saved for him.

*

When Jean and the girls get back, the greeting is just as enthused if a little less physical.

Nicky is still very excitable, but is getting better about not straight up grabbing people, especially people who aren’t used to being grabbed with joy. Still, Jean is also getting used to affection—in the sense that he believes it’s not a rarity exclusive to other people. He allows some hair ruffling from Nicky and hand squeezing from Neil and Kevin, who lingers there, slightly awed as always at the idea of a littler Jean.

Wymack he curls against easily, having missed him, making a happy sound when he kisses his temple. “It’s good to see you, J.”

Abby stands off a little ways, but smiles kindly when Jean notices her and shies into Wymack’s arms. She tips her head at him. “Hi, sweetie. I’m Abby.”

Jean nods. “I remember, I—” He shuffles nervously, turning to face her completely. “Thank you.” He need not say what for.

Abby just nods, offers her hand. “Do you need help getting changed?”

Flushing, Jean takes her hand, thinking he’s slowly getting to a point in his life where he prefers holding hands over not. Still, he shakes his head. “I’m. I’m a big boy,” he says haltingly. He goes all shy when Abby beams at him proudly.

They pass up the guest room for now, knowingly, and she lets him change in her bedroom. For some reason, his bare feet in her carpet and the casual lived-in-ness of her bedroom make him feel…very welcome and safe. Coming back out in his onesie to Seth standing outside the door is also very nice.

“J,” Seth says and in the quiet distance from the others, Jean wraps around his arm.

“Seth,” Jean says back, bumping his forehead against Seth’s jaw.

It’s just as rowdy as it always is over dinner, people talking back and forth, at, over, and to each other. Wymack doesn’t generally make a point to feed anyone, but a few times when someone gets distracted, they’ll find him bringing their spoon back to their mouths. Jean and Allison are most tolerant of this, though surprisingly enough, Kevin doesn’t kick up a fuss even as he looks flustered. Abby is quick with smiles and napkins, laughing at Nicky and Matt’s jokes and dabbing at Seth’s mouth. Aaron is creeping ever closer to her as the meal progresses until eventually he’s as close as he can get without actually sitting in her lap.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Abby says suddenly, turning to him and smoothing his hair down. “Do you think you’d like to take a bottle, Aaron?”

Aaron flushes sharply, wide-eyed with surprise. “A… bottle?”

Wymack hums, lifting the arm around Kevin’s shoulders to point. “They’re in the dishwasher.”

Abby turns to him, and somehow even seated with her hand on Aaron’s head, manages to encompass the idea of putting her hands on her hips. “Are they dishwasher safe?”

“I washed them by _hand_ and they’re drying in the dish washer,” Wymack says sweetly, arching an eyebrow. “Didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“Oh, well in that case,” Abby leans over to kiss his cheek as she stands, ignoring his grunt. She offers Aaron her hand.

There’s a moment where he just looks at it owlishly. He reaches for her and looks over at Andrew at the same time. Andrew still has his plastic spoon in his mouth, Kitty tucked into one arm, but he doesn’t look bothered. _Legitimately_ , doesn’t look bothered, because he doesn’t ever aim to look numb here. When Aaron lets him go, Andrew inches back closer to Neil who accepts him easily against his side.

“Would anyone else like one?” Abby asks.

Allison raises her hand and Kevin slowly follows. Matt’s gaze immediately cuts to Neil, the same way Seth’s jumps to Jean before skittering away and Abby stifles a laugh. “There’s no time limit, ok? If you’re not sure, you can ask later and I’ll make you one.”

[Thank you,] Neil signs because he and Andrew are having an eyes-only conversation that somehow seems to have encompassed Jean.

Aaron tails Abby into the kitchen. “What kind of juice?” she calls.

There’s a pause before Allison answers, “Apple and apple!”

“Apple and apple,” Abby opens the fridge, looking at Aaron. “And?”

Initially, Aaron really struggled with accepting _how_ little he can get when they play. Even after he accepted he was, in fact, committing to this, he would feel like he needed to be older, to be less trouble for his grownups instead of being genuine to his little self. Today he feels too little for most words and it only takes a few heartbeats for him to decide Abby isn’t the type to demand he use his words, not over something like this. He points.

“Apple, apple, and strawberry milk, coming up!”

Aaron holds onto the back of her shirt while she works, something that actually seems to make her happy which gives him enough peace not to let go even when she heads back into the living room. The others are sprawled all over the place, playing games and drawing, Nicky and Wymack picking up the plates to load the dish washer. Nicky smiles and noses Aaron’s cheek as he passes into the kitchen, shouting back to Allison that he’ll play with her in a second.

Allison and Kevin take their bottles by hand, thanking her brightly, but when Abby turns to Aaron, he doesn’t reach for it right away, so Abby doesn’t try to hand it over. He doesn’t realize why he even paused until she asks, “Would it be ok if I fed you, hon?”

Actually, Aaron thinks that would be more than ok. He nods and lets Abby lead him to the couch. She curls up in the cushion and holds her arms out like it’s easy, like this is something familiar for them. Aaron doesn’t let himself hope that it could be, he just _knows_ it could. He doesn’t know how to sit in someone’s lap, Nicky the closest he’s ever gotten in short bursts, but Abby arranges him comfortably in her arms, against her chest.

“Good?” she asks, giving him a second to nod before pressing the bottle into his mouth.

It’s an odd adjustment, just like everything else about this has been, but soon enough, her warmth and the soft reverberation of her voice as she talks with the others lulls him away. Not quite asleep, but feeling somewhere else, or maybe like there’s nothing he needs to worry about outside Abby’s arms for a little while.

*

Jean had been watching Matt and Seth explain _Super Mario World_ to Wymack, but his attention keeps getting snagged on Aaron snuggled into Abby’s embrace.

Eventually, one such pass of his gaze Abby catches and returns kindly. “Do you want to sit with us?”

Aaron looks peaceable in her arms—sensing no judgment from Jean, just the same awed pull towards Abby that he’d felt. Jean dithers long enough to see that, that he won’t be unwelcome or intruding, before he nods and crawls his way up to the couch.

They talk about Jean’s favorite things, because Abby asks him and the more she asks, the more he feels like talking to her. They talk about Cheche and cartoons and onesies with thumb holes and Jeremy. He learns that Abby likes horses and _Winnie the Pooh_ and taking care of her little darlings. The talking is easier than Jean ever imagined it could be, his life finally full of things that are good and don’t need to be a secret, not when he’s a baby.

“You’re nice,” Jean tells Abby like it’s a secret and she squishes her face up in a smile.

“You’re sweet,” she replies. She looks down when Aaron finishes his bottle, the soft sound of him sucking air catching her attention. “All done? There’s my good boy,” she says, setting the bottle aside and shifting Aaron up to her shoulder like a real baby. It makes the boys sheepish, but Aaron’s embarrassment isn’t nearly enough to override his desire to stay right here. He clings to her, resting his cheek on her shoulder as she absently pats his back. Her new position leaves Jean’s thigh pressed against hers and… most of her lap empty. “Do you want to lay down?”

Jean is starting to think she must be some kind of psychic. “Won’t you be too warm?”

Abby shrugs. “I tend to run cold. I’ll let you know if I need to get up, ok?”

As soon as Jean curls up on the end of the couch, his head resting on her thigh, he realizes he cannot remember once in his life ever laying like this. He’s never felt this safe with anyone new so quickly, but of course he should, shouldn’t he? His Papa trusts Abby and Papa would never let anyone hurt them. The thought honestly makes him tear up as Abby plays with his hair, fingers gentle and welcome. Papa has given him a whole family that cares and that aches in his chest so sweetly he can hardly contain himself. Jean Moreau isn’t a Thing anymore and never will be again; he’s a little boy with a home filled with family.

“Do you want some juice, too, honey?” Abby asks after a few minutes of petting. Jean does, but… He turns his head to find where Seth is poking at a treasure chest on the back of Dan’s onesie. Abby follows his gaze, whispers, “We can ask him if you want?”

“You’re nice,” he tells her again, scrubbing his eye as he sits up some.

Abby’s laugh is sweet.

*

Seth turns immediately when Abby calls him, watching as she and Aaron stretch, before his gaze locks on Jean.

Abby is neutral and kind when she asks “Do you think you can get Jean a bottle?” but everything about Jean’s face is openly wanting, like he’s forgotten his normal tendency to maintain an unapproachable personality. If Seth isn’t mistaken, he looks a little damp about the eyes, too.

“Yeah,” he answers without thinking, then winces, turning to Dan apologetically, only to find her smiling at him. She kisses his shoulder.

“We’re okay,” she says, laughing as Kevin lays back across her legs, his own bottle half empty. Seth huffs a laugh, kissing her shoulder too and petting Kevin’s stomach before he stands.

“Do you want help?” Wymack asks, struggling to pause the video game until Matt presses the button for him.

“I’m good, Pop,” Seth answers smirking, he ruffles Jean’s hair as he passes into the kitchen. He finds the bottle with farm animals and gets the juice out of the fridge. It’s…a weirdly nice feeling, just being here at all. The swell of sound from the living room, happy and friendly, makes him stand there and just take it in. It’s the background noise that only comes from people who are together by choice, because somewhere along the way, they couldn’t help but love each other. It’s the kind of family Seth thought was made for TV, but here it is, it’s his, and _they’re glad he’s back._

Seth takes the bottle back to find Jean holding Cheche out towards Aaron, who pets him like he’s real. They both look up when Seth gets close. “Room for me, or what?”

Aaron rolls his eyes as Abby laughs, scooting closer into his space when he doesn’t move. He’s feeling clingy tonight, but she doesn’t seem to mind having him tucked under her arm. Jean must also be feeling clingy, because even though he gives Seth a grouchy look, he also reaches up for him. Seth has never even been _close_ to being someone’s favorite. He doesn’t know what to do with feeling like he _could_ be other than reach back without question or hesitation.

Jean rocks up for Seth to fall into the space he’d just been sitting in, close against Abby’s side, but now with Jean relaxing into his lap.

Seth doesn’t even remember to look embarrassed when Abby kisses his temple, just leans into it. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

_No big deal,_ Seth almost dismisses, but Jean is settled into his arm, looking like he’s comfortable and safe. Seth, too, feels comfortable and safe, feels like everything here is under control. With all their hands stabilizing each other, Wymack and Abby watching over them carefully. Seth has grown ups that care about him and little friends that like him, trust him. It’s a goddamn big deal.

“I like it,” Seth admits, first to Jean as he gives him his bottle, before looking over at Abby. “Thank you.”

Abby just hums at him, changes the subject. “So your stuffie is named Gatorade?”

*

Neil watches a little longingly as Seth settles Jean down with a bottle.

It’s not jealousy, because jealousy doesn’t fit all that well in little Neil. There are things he wants, of course, sometimes seen in other hands first. But he is allowed to ask for things now, so the wanting, he finds, doesn’t take away from him being very happy to see his friends enjoy themselves. Jean who has never really been handled gently and Seth who spoke more often with closed fists than outstretched hands, sitting in a soft and quiet corner of the world makes him happy. Foxes sometimes struggle with softness, some more than others, but—Neil hugs Junkie the Fox tighter, feeling like he could just about float—they’re all learning what it’s like to have emotions that bubble happily inside them when they think about their family, cushioning the place where pain usually lived.

“Neil?” Matt calls, breaking him out of reverie.

“Mm?” Neil replies around his pacifier, turning to find Matt looking shy and earnest. He’d been playing games with Wymack, but Nicky and Allison have taken over, talking back and forth and not seeming to make very much progress. Neil had spaced out, ruminating in the unfamiliar settling of peace over his mind.

Matt nods over towards Seth and Jean. “Can I give you a bottle, too?”

Peace and happiness; Neil thinks about these things and they don’t feel foreign. He nods, smiling when Matt’s whole face lights up. Neil reaches out for him at the exact moment Matt stands to come over to him. They come to sit on the floor in front of the couch just below Aaron who finger waves at him as he reclines in Matt’s lap. Neil blinks at him before Matt pulls him in, “Yes or no?”

[Yes,] Neil signs, dropping his pacifier to take the bottle into his mouth. It’s odd thinking that something so clearly for his benefit makes Matt so happy, but then he thinks that kinda makes sense. Being friends with someone means that their happiness makes you happy, too.

Neil likes being held. And bottles, and stuffies, and more than any of those, his big brother Mattie.

It is not at all hard to accept that Matt likes Neil, too.

*

Jean stares at Kevin’s pacifier for a long time before he finally speaks. “It’s cute,” he whispers, “Your…” he pauses, face scrunching, before nodding towards Kevin’s mouth and saying what Wymack can only assume is French for “pacifier”.

Wymack watches this exchange as the credits roll on _Mary Poppins_. It’s getting late, probably not late for college students, but definitely for little foxes, and he was just about to suggest they start turning in. Dan has been asleep in his lap for the last quarter of the movie and Aaron and Andrew are slumped together like they’re pretty close behind.

Kevin blinks a little more aware at Jean’s comment, though, going pink even in the dim lighting of the living room. He hadn’t had it when they started the movie, but at some point Andrew had given it to him and Kevin had taken it without thinking. Now, faced with a direct comment about it, he doesn’t seem to know what to do other than make a soft noise of acknowledgement, touching it sheepishly.

“Do you want one?” Wymack asks. He continues when Jean turns to look at him, surprised. “I snagged one for you, too, if you’d like to have it.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Jean says, a little high like his voice creaked without him meaning for it to. Seth’s thumb rubs into his shoulder at the sound.

“Ok, kiddo, I’ll wash it off for you while you get ready for bed,” Wymack says, then when several groans rise up around them, “ _Oh shut it_ , you know you’re sleepy.”

“Come on,” Abby cajoles gently, shrugging the shoulder Allison currently had her head rested on. “We can have pancakes for breakfast.”

Nicky tips his head back to look at her from where he’s already lying on the floor. “With smiley faces?”

“Of course!”

There’s still a bit of residual grumbling and groaning as they stand, but Wymack pats Seth’s shoulder before he can get to the closet to help tug out the mats. “Are you too old for chewies?”

Seth takes a second to stare at him, before he seems to waffle. “Am I?” he replies uncertainly.

“No,” Wymack answers instantly, before he realizes he agrees with himself and his gut instinct. The Foxes were forced to do a lot of growing up too fast, he’s not going to be the one to tell them they’re too big for something. “If you want something, all you have to do is tell me and we’ll figure it out, ok? You’re a little one, Seth, you get to pick how little.”

Nodding, Seth shuffles on his feet, looks away. “No, I… I’m not too big.”

“Thank you for saying,” Wymack says, pulling him in for a hug. “I couldn’t find you an alligator, but I did get you a shark.”

“Sharks are cool!” Seth allows brightly and Wymack smiles at him.

Abby comes up beside him when he’s washing them in the sink. He goes still when she kisses his cheek, lingering and warm. “I love this so much, Dave.” And they’ve been together long enough that he hears the ‘ _I love them so much_ ’ she doesn’t say out loud just yet.

“I do, too,” Wymack says, turning to kiss her forehead. “Wanna make sure the bathroom isn’t a lake?” He kisses her when she leans up for it laughingly, before turning to supervise their kids.

When Wymack finds Jean, he holds out the pacifier and Jean, trustingly, lets him put it in his mouth. “You’re cute, too,” Wymack tells him, kissing the top of his head. “You should take a picture for Jeremy,” he suggests, smirking at Jean’s sour look and the way it dissolves completely when he sees Rene. Rene giggles when she clacks their pacifiers together softly and Jean groans, embarrassed, hiding his face in her shoulder.

Seth looks at the pendant when Wymack puts it in his hand, squishes it before he puts it in his mouth. For some reason it makes him laugh and take it back out. He scrunches his face, clacking his teeth softly. “It feels weird,” he says before he bites it again, shaking his head and chuckling, chewing on it a little more thoroughly. “Weird.”

Wymack smiles at him, bemused. “You don’t have to use it.”

“I’m your kid,” Seth mumbles around it, “Weird is jus’ happy here.” It’s not meant to be something profound, but Wymack can’t help feeling a little touched at the thought, ruffling Seth’s hair, nearly choking up when Seth leans in to hug him.

The process of getting everyone ready for beddy-bye is eased with familiarity this time, even if tonight Abby has a nightlight plugged in by the door, beaming soft blue stars up onto the ceiling. It makes the room seem safe and still, the soft whirring of the light oddly soothing. Kevin winds up further into the middle tonight, Jean rolling over to face him, close enough that their stuffies are touching. Seth lays on his other side, pressed closed to Matt who shamelessly has him by the hand even as Dan lays across his chest.

Wymack normally gives out a general goodnight at this point, but Abby passes by everyone, offering kisses or touches or whispered goodnights and Wymack wishes he could capture this exact feeling and live in it for the rest of his life.

Falling asleep with the love of his life in his arms and all eleven of his hearts sleeping safely in the living room, Wymack is certain he is the luckiest son of a bitch alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t have any little space sites to rec y’all. I’ve never actually bought from any and the ones I’ve window shopped in all have sexual sides that don’t vibe with this fic. There’s a few etsy stores that look interesting, though.
> 
> And sometimes when I bite chewy stuff it…tickles through my teeth? Idk, it’s a weird sensation and I gifted it to Seth, huzzah.
> 
> Also! I just learned the term “kitty kisses” and I-I love it so much?


	20. Story Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seth and Allison finally have a heart to heart.

They don’t quite treat Seth like a fish, but the news of him rejoining the team does draw enough attention that the other Foxes have him on a casual watch circuit.

Most of them are genuinely casual—catching lunch between classes, studying together, always ( _always, always, from now on_ ) sticking to pairs late at night. It’s all the things normal friends do anyway, organic to the college experience, if fairly new to them specifically. Renee could demolish just about anyone who jumped out of the dark at her, but cheerfully links arms with Seth and lets everyone think he’s the scarier of the two when they hang out. Andrew isn’t exactly going to teach him Sign, but he’ll sit around with them while Neil translates, occasionally teaching Seth a word or two a day. Aaron is a pretty good, if impatient, tutor when it comes to the sciences, and Kevin, well…

“You added French?” Kevin says in surprise when they’re talking about Seth’s schedule at lunch one afternoon.

Seth had. He isn’t sure there’d ever been a point where he was fully, completely convinced he was going to graduate before the night— _The Night,_ he shakes that thought away. Point being, he’d passed his classes absently, skipped a lot of the shit he didn’t care about figuring he’d cram it all into his last semester if he made it there anyway. He’d never actually taken his required language course.

There’s a language he cares about now.

“Yeah,” Seth answers with a shrug that badly disguises that he’s flustered at the interest in Kevin’s voice. “Figure, you know, since my—my friends speak—” He stumbles when Kevin’s eyes widen before he visibly bites the inside of his lip, trying not to smile. “Oh, shut up.”

Kevin lets out an amused breath. “No, it’s nice. I know you and Jean talk a lot nowadays.”

Seth doesn’t quite bristle at that, but the instinctual response to someone mentioning Jean and the insinuation that he’s attached to him is fond annoyance. He sucks his lip, scrunching up his face. “I talk to you, too, asshole.”

That gets him an actual laugh, which shouldn’t really feel like a reward, but Kevin so rarely laughs that Seth can’t quite shake the feeling. “Yeah, but that’s new,” Kevin tells him with a shrug. “Still nice though.” Then he pauses like a thought’s occurred to him, a nice thought, even. “How much do you know so far?”

There’s a very strong temptation to say ‘ _jack shit_ ’, but Seth has been trying to work on not leaning into self-dismissiveness anymore. The Bee in his head smiles at that, the thought that he lets himself acknowledge that he _does_ know something; “more than nothing” still counts as progress. And also, the honest answer… makes him feel too little to be sitting out in public, actually. Surprisingly, he’s suddenly very glad Kevin is with him as he gets to say this out loud. Shifting in his chair, he glances around as he lowers his voice. “I know my ABCs, numbers, and colors,” he admits and Kevin’s face half-crumbles like that’s the cutest thing he’s ever heard. “And some present tense, kinda.”

“ _That’s very good,_ ” Kevin replies in French and smiles when Seth goes all shy like he understands. “Are you busy?”

Seth motions around as though to say, _I’m here, aren’t I?_ “You’re going to meet with Neil later though, aren’t you?”

“Not soon,” Kevin says, he drops his napkin in his bowl. “Will you go to the library with me?”

“Sure?” Seth answers cautiously, “I don’t have my French shit on me right now, though.”

Kevin shakes his head. “Let’s just go… for fun?”

They stare at each other for a second, Kevin not used to doing things for fun, Seth not used to fun correlating with a library. But they are friends now, family on the best and worst of days, and Kevin wants to do something that’s got him all bubbly and shy looking behind the public properness. Seth feels something similar within himself.

Well, half-little and happy is never a bad way to spend the day, much less spend the day together.

Might as well see where it leads.

*

Neil doesn’t care one way or another about the rumors, though even he’s not dense enough to miss how they’ve changed in tone.

Between Neil’s new face courtesy of Lola, Aaron’s trial courtesy of Drake’s death, Seth’s near-death experience courtesy of Riko, and all their incomprehensible, but apparently visible happiness (courtesy of being David Wymack’s babies), people can’t seem to keep their whispers to themselves. The rumor mill is stirring, because Foxes always have that effect, but they never did anything to combat the rumors before and have no intention of starting now. “Can neither confirm nor deny, nor feel any fucking need to acknowledge” is basically their take on anything anyone says about them.

All to say, when Allison breezes up to him after class and kisses his cheek, he leans into it without hesitation. “Hi, Alli.”

They’re not doing anything specific, not today, but even just walking with each other in the brief time they have between other activities is nice. Allison is done with classes and planning to watch the season finale of some show with Dan, but Neil’s supposed to be meeting Kevin at the library to finish up a project. She walks him there, swinging their hands between them, her thumb tracing absently over the bumps of his knuckles.

Some people stare. Neil doesn’t think any of them look stupid enough to approach, between Allison radiating unapproachable and Neil encircled in her glow.

Kevin is a creature of habit, always studies in the same spot of the library, so Neil doesn’t text him ahead of time, just leads Allison that way. At least until she stops in the middle of the hall, quiet chatter trailing off to nothing. Before Neil can even open his mouth to ask, he realizes what’s gotten her attention.

Allison blinks in shock, tilting her head to listen. “Is that—?”

“Yeah,” Neil replies before she can even ask, just as baffled by the sound of Seth… speaking _French?_

Sharing a glance, they turn down the row in one motion, following the low timber of Seth’s voice until they find him with Kevin.

They’re sitting on the floor together in the stacks, not _close_ exactly, but obviously together in a way that would’ve been absurd to imagine before all this started.

Seth is jerkily making his way through a children’s book, tripping through a sentence that Kevin quietly says correctly. Seth repeats it, then Kevin repeats it, then Seth says it right and keeps going at Kevin’s nod. If Allison had to pick a word for it, she’d say Kevin looks _peaceful_. Sleepy almost, but present and relaxed as he looks down at the picture book in Seth’s lap, which is so heartwarming she almost can’t contain herself. Thing is, _Princess_ relaxes with them, but _Kevin_ tends to stay pretty keyed up in public. Still, something about him has eased in recent months. Even when he catches sight of Allison and Neil, he just sort of smiles and Allison _loves her brother._

Neil almost decides to leave them to it, this quiet little bubble they’ve made, but well, Kevin has seen them at this point. He lets Allison pull him forward by the hand until Seth notices them, face going all shy and false-annoyed.

“ _Can I have a bedtime story?_ ” Neil asks softly in French.

“ _Greedy,_ ” Kevin replies, like he isn’t one locked door away from laying across Seth’s lap like a truly spoiled child.

“ _I do not understand,_ ” Seth answers in French before switching back to English, “but you get whatever you want.”

Neil goes all melty, rolling his eyes when Allison nudges him.

“He wants Kevin today,” Allison says, wiggling her fingers for Seth, “You got me, big guy.”

Seth smirks at her, taking her hand as he stands. He starts to put the book back, but Neil motions for him to keep it.

“Check it out? I want to read it with you, too,” Neil says, “I asked for a bedtime story.”

The tips of Seth’s ears burn pink as he looks down at his shoes. “Yeah, I can do that.”

They don’t hug, because Seth is still getting over his own nerves about some of this, but Allison does lean over to bump cheeks with Kevin before walking off with Seth.

It’s easy, in a lot of ways, when it’s just the two of them. They know each other very well at this point, better than almost anyone else does. They were a unit before they were a part of a proper family unit.

It’s harder for that reason, too, though.

There’s been a conversation building between them for a long time coming, building much faster the longer they stay on good terms. They don’t fight nearly as much as they used to, hardly fight at all now that they’re _actually_ friends on a deeper level. The fact that Seth is clean and not constantly fighting her has given him the time and lucidity to look at how fucking lucky he is that she’s still here with him. Glad to be here, too, apparently, because she’s just said it plain out as they cross the library courtyard.

Seth doesn’t know what to do with that, at the tightness it puts in his throat. “Thanks,” he croaks, clears his throat, “For caring, I mean.” He’s not even remotely sarcastic in saying so, even if they both laugh at his clunky wording. He looks at her sidelong, feels the words coming out and makes no move to stop them. “I do love you, you know?”

Allison nods, though her smile wobbles on her lips. “I love you, too,” she laughs, touching the corner of her eye, looking away, “but we were shit for each other, huh?”

“Well, we were going through some shit…” Seth allows, because she isn’t exactly wrong. He scratches his head nervously, “You never been a bad friend, though.”

There’s a pause where Allison winces. “You sorta were,” she admits, only a little apologetic. Seth is only a little stung because, again, she isn’t wrong. He looks up when she touches his arm. “Not now, though. And not when it counted before.”

Seth doesn’t ask what she means. He’d beat the shit out of that guy every day for the rest of his life, no question. Yeah, to keep her safe, of course, but…but for any of his friends, actually. He’ll stand up for anyone who can’t get up alone. That’s what she saw in him, he thinks. That’s what she, and the others, and Pop see in him _now._ He also thinks he’s ready to acknowledge that that is exactly the kind of man he really wants to be, fuck all the shit he tried to hide it under before.

 “I’m trying, okay?” he tells her honestly, “I’m really gonna fucking try.” To stay sober, to graduate, to be a better person, to believe he can do all those things and be worthy of the outcome.

Allison beams at him. “Oh, I know,” she says, “You’re already a good friend and I’m so damn proud of you.”

Seth just smiles sheepishly, because there isn’t anything to say to that, is there? At least until he notices and identifies the nervous clenching in his stomach. His smile falls some. “Hey, uh, can. Can we be close again? When you’re ready for that?” he adds on quickly, “I know it’s weird, because we were…” She knows what they were, that’s not the important part, not what needs saying. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” Allison promises confidently, turning to hug him. “The Foxes are my family and that will always include you.”

Overcome with a rush of relief and childish joy, Seth picks her up to swing her around in a circle, laughing as she squeals. They are so much better this way. He can never _unfeel_ what they were before, but this here, this them is better, because, goddamn, it feels like it might just last. When he sets her back on her feet, she grins at him just as big as he grins at her. Two childhood friends facing down the future together because they still—and always—love each other.

There’s still a faint impulse to kiss her when he’s this happy, but he goes for the top of her head instead of her lips and it feels right. She hums out a happy little sound that he mocks when she pulls him down to kiss the top of his head, too.

“Call me Alli!” she exclaims brightly.

“Ok, Alli,” Seth replies, unintentionally honest in his sweetness. “I’m supposed to meet up with Mattie.” He offers his hand, “Wanna walk back to the dorms with me?”

“Absolutely,” Allison answers, and happily laces her fingers through his. “I do have a question, though.”

“Shoot.”

Allison tilts her head at him, the look on her face making his eyes narrow before she even says, “Why French?”

The answer is not as _specific_ as her tone is implying. Seth needs to take a language and three of his close friends speak French, it’s nothing more specific than that. But the look on her face mirrors Wymack’s when he’d teased Seth about his “obsession with Frenchmen,” because she is her daddy’s child.

Seth gives her a sour look that she meets with a grin, laughing when he gently shoves her without letting go of her fingers.

*

Seth almost starts to answer the phone in French, just to see if he could pull it off, but flakes at the last second.

They pick at each other, same as usual, a familiar bickering right up until Seth mentions what happened at the library. He’s met with a breath of silence, before Jean says, with the same surprise Kevin had, “ _You’re taking French?_ ”

“Yeah,” he answers, “Needed a language, got friends who speak French. Makes sense to me, I don’t know why everyone sounds so—l”

“ _Tell me something,_ ” Jean says in French, of which Seth understands the first two words.

“Tell you…?” Seth asks.

“ _Something_ ,” Jean translates, “ _I—I bet you sound… little, in French._ ”

Seth digs his fingers into Gatorade’s back, the stuffie’s weight settled comfortingly on his legs. He feels tingly with warmth. “ _My name is Seth. I know my ABCs. I count to…fifteen_ ,” he pronounces carefully. “ _I speak to my friend Jean. Jean likes cows._ ”

Jean’s near silent laugh clouds the microphone. “ _Yes, your friend Jean likes cows,_ ” he says and Seth can hear the fondness in his voice. “ _Seth?_ ”

“Yeah, J?”

“ _Next time we’re together…_ ” Jean lowers his voice, even though Seth knows he’s alone in his room. “ _Can we have story time, too?_ ”

The ache in his chest is familiar, an odd mix of missing Jean and still being moved that he misses Seth, too. The ache of knowing that someone wants to get back to him. Seth hugs Gatorade closer. “Sure, kid. Do you…know any French lullabies?”

“ _Frere Jacques_ , _Au clair de la lune, nothing you haven’t heard,_ ” Jean answers sheepishly, “ _We can learn more together._ ”

Seth would love that, already excited at the mere thought. Still, he can’t help, but tease Jean, shying away from how his heart fills up. “Can you even sing?”

“ _Fuck you, can you speak French?_ ”

“Oh, so I guess that’s a no then?”

It’s probably a little odd that Seth always sleeps better after Jean tells him off about something, but Wymack has been trying to get him not to second guess the little things that get him through. Wymack has also told him that if he sleeps better holding something, he’s never ever too big to hold something.

Gatorade is here for now, Matt and Aaron nowhere near giving him any shit for it. The thought of Jean and their friendship and the fact that Seth can _keep it_ fits comfortably against him, too, as he drifts off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am up way too late because it was irking me that this wasn't finished, but hell, I think I might just like it.
> 
> Next chapter is just going to be a tiny closing epilogue that will most likely be posted tomorrow, real-life permitting!


	21. Epilogue: Oh, the Places…

In all his life, Wymack has never really be one for rose colored glasses.

Sure, some of that is probably a product of being an alumnus of the School of Hard Knocks among other things, but even his start with the Foxes’ didn’t exactly inspire hopefulness. For a long time, it was just his own dogged stubbornness to not be proven wrong, to _not_ be a gnarled piece-of-shit nihilist who refuses to believe in anything. It was hard and there were plenty of occasions—spent alone with his head in his hands, later with Abby’s hands in his—hurting and tired, but never, never once allowing himself to fantasize about quitting. He was going somewhere with this, he knew it.

This isn’t exactly where he was planning on going, but, man, what a great place to land.

Walking down the hall, he shuts out the noise for the last few moments he can before it gets too deafening to ignore. He thinks about his kids, how he in no way hesitates to think of them as _his kids_ anymore, laughingly thinks “ _the joys of fatherhood_ ” actually applies to him and his little shitheads. Yeah, they still piss each other off and harass each other for sport. There are still nights where they have to call their sponsors, call each other, call Abby and Wymack to stay on the wagon, but they _do_ call. For all the elbowing and pigtail pulling, they’re a family, they still reach out, because there’s love here now that isn’t going anywhere.

Wymack still sees the struggle, can feel their scars under his hands without even touching them. But he can just as easily call up the image of them, all soft in their pajamas, close together and laughing like nobody ever told them to be quiet. Things are always going to be a little messed up for them, _they’re_ always going to be a little messed up, but they’re also going to be alright, they really, really are.

Coach Wymack will never build anything like what he has with them ever again. They’re always going to be more than just his students, but he can see the kind of people they’ve grown into and how that fits into what he wanted out of the Foxhole. The freshmen are going to join a team standing tall and strong, made of people who understand where they’re coming from and how damn hard it is learn not to smack away the hands trying to help you. This is the sort of foundation he’s been always needed to grow from and he can never thank them enough for that. But Wymack will worry about their future Foxes on another night.

The locker room right now is just his kiddos, geared up and read to put up a fight.

Wymack looks at them, one by one, as he gives his pre-game speech. They all meet his gaze, present and focused, _confident_. This is a new team. A smirk breaks across Wymack’s face before he even asks, “We ready?”

“Course we are.” Seth’s grin is shark-like, as he shares a look with the others.

Kevin nods at him, looks to Wymack. “We’re Foxes.”

Not kits, no, tonight they’re Foxes. They’re fire and grit, they’re tough as hell and twice as determined. They’re a unit, they’re back up on their feet, baring teeth, _ready._

“Alright, then,” Wymack says as he opens the locker room door. “Then let’s give ‘em hell, kids!”

The future they’re headed for sure is gonna be something to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading…no matter what’s behind you, there are good things in front of you
> 
> Oh, corny, corny… But sweet yes? I’d love to hear what you thought, good, bad, and otherwise!
> 
> Also! Self-control and I have a tremulous relationship, so as I mentioned, I have more things planned! One shots and such. I don’t know how many more or how quickly, but yes! That said, I make no promises, but you are welcome to offer prompts and headcanons and such!
> 
> Until next time, kits! ❤


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